Christopher; "I'm as clammy as a cockle-snail."




14.


A Martinmas summer of Mrs. Henchard's life set in with her entry into
her husband's large house and respectable social orbit; and it was as
bright as such summers well can be. Lest she should pine for deeper
affection than he could give he made a point of showing some semblance
of it in external action. Among other things he had the iron railings,
that had smiled sadly in dull rust for the last eighty years, painted
a bright green, and the heavy-barred, small-paned Georgian sash windows
enlivened with three coats of white. He was as kind to her as a man,
mayor, and churchwarden could possibly be. The house was large, the
rooms lofty, and the landings wide; and the two unassuming women
scarcely made a perceptible addition to its contents.

To Elizabeth-Jane the time was a most triumphant one. The freedom she
experienced, the indulgence with which she was treated, went beyond her
expectations. The reposeful, easy, affluent life to which her mother's
marriage had introduced her was, in truth, the beginning of a great
change in Elizabeth. She found she could have nice personal possessions
and ornaments for the asking, and, as the mediaeval saying puts it,
"Take, have, and keep, are pleasant words." With peace of mind came
development, and with development beauty. Knowledge--the result of great
natural insight--she did not lack; learning, accomplishment--those,
alas, she had not; but as the winter and spring passed by her thin