How happy could he be if it were only possible for him to go away, and become even a curate in a parish, without his wife! Would there ever come to him a time of freedom? Would she ever die? He was older than she, and of course he would die first. Would it not be a fine thing if he could die at once, and thus escape from his misery.
What could he do, even supposing himself strong enough to fight the battle? He could not lock her up. He could not even very well lock her out of his room. She was his wife, and must have the run of the house.
He could not altogether debar her from the society of the diocesan clergymen. He had, on this very morning, taken strong measures with her.
More than once or twice he had desired her to leave the room. What was there to be done with a woman who would not obey her husband--who would not even leave him to the performance of his own work? What a blessed thing it would be if a bishop could go away from his home to his work every day like a clerk in a public office--as a stone-mason does! But there was no such escape for him. He could not go away. And how was he to meet her again on this very day?
