"It is a wife's
duty to order her husband's dinner; you are my wife, and I shall expect
you to order mine." For Theobald was nothing if he was not logical.
The bride began to cry, and said he was unkind; whereon he said nothing,
but revolved unutterable things in his heart. Was this, then, the end of
his six years of unflagging devotion? Was it for this that when
Christina had offered to let him off, he had stuck to his engagement? Was
this the outcome of her talks about duty and spiritual mindedness--that
now upon the very day of her marriage she should fail to see that the
first step in obedience to God lay in obedience to himself? He would
drive back to Crampsford; he would complain to Mr and Mrs Allaby; he
didn't mean to have married Christina; he hadn't married her; it was all
a hideous dream; he would--But a voice kept ringing in his ears which
said: "YOU CAN'T, CAN'T, CAN'T."
"CAN'T I?" screamed the unhappy creature to himself.
"No," said the remorseless voice, "YOU CAN'T. YOU ARE A MARRIED MAN."
He rolled back in his corner of the carriage and for the first time felt
how iniquitous were the marriage laws of England. But he would buy
Milton's prose works and read his pamphlet on divorce.
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