She knew this well; and yet,
in the moments of wretched unbenumbed consciousness, the sense of
her want and degradation transformed itself continually into
bitterness towards Godfrey. He was well off; and if she had her rights
she would be well off too. The belief that he repented his marriage,
and suffered from it, only aggravated her vindictiveness. Just and
self-reproving thoughts do not come to us too thickly, even in the
purest air, and with the best lessons of heaven and earth; how
should those white-winged delicate messengers make their way to
Molly's poisoned chamber, inhabited by no higher memories than those
of a bar-maid's paradise of pink ribbons and gentlemen's jokes?
She had set out at an early hour, but had lingered on the road,
inclined by her indolence to believe that if she waited under a warm
shed the snow would cease to fall. She had waited longer than she
knew, and now that she found herself belated in the snow-hidden
ruggedness of the long lanes, even the animation of a vindictive
purpose could not keep her spirit from failing. It was seven
o'clock, and by this time she was not very far from Raveloe, but she
was not familiar enough with those monotonous lanes to know how near
she was to her journey's end. She needed comfort, and she knew but one
comforter- the familiar demon in her bosom; but she hesitated a
moment, after drawing out the black remnant, before she raised it to
her lips.
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