On the one hand he saw the man as he appeared to men: on the other he
saw the woman as she appeared to men, beautiful to the last; fragile,
with the low voice, so beautiful in any woman, so more especially
beautiful in an Irish woman; with a languid face which insured
compassion while never asking for it; with the appearance of a martyr,
and the tone and the manner of a suffering saint.

Everyone who beheld the pair together, remarked, "What a pity it was
such a sweet creature should be married to such a bear!" but Mr.
Elmsdale was no bear to his wife: he adored her. The selfishness, the
discontent, the ill-health, as much the consequence of a peevish,
petted temper, as of disease, which might well have exhausted the
patience and tired out the love of a different man, only endeared her
the more to him.

She made him feel how inferior he was to her in all respects; how
tremendously she had condescended, when she agreed to become his wife;
and he quietly accepted her estimation of him, and said with a humility
which was touching from its simplicity:

"I know I am not worthy of you, Kathleen, but I do my best to make
you happy."

For her sake, not being a liberal man, he spent money freely; for her
sake he endured Miss Blake; for her sake he bought the place which
afterwards caused us so much trouble; for her sake, he, who had always
scoffed at the folly of people turning their houses into stores for
"useless timber," as he styled the upholsterer's greatest triumphs,
furnished his rooms with a lavish disregard of cost; for her sake, he,
who hated society, smiled on visitors, and entertained the guests she