he would have ridden as far round to avoid a turnpike when his expenses were to be paid for him, as when they were to come out of his own pocket, and was quite zealous in trying to induce indifferent acquaintances to adopt a cheap substitute for blacking.This inalienable habit of saving, as an end in itself, belonged to the industrious men of business of a former generation, who made their fortunes slowly, almost as the tracking of the fox belongs to the harrier - it constituted them a `race,' which is nearly lost in these days of rapid money-getting, when lavishness comes close on the back of want.In old-fashioned times, an `independence' was hardly ever made without a little miserliness as a condition, and you would have found that quality in every provincial district combined with characters as various as the fruits from which we can extract acid.The true Harpagons were always marked and exceptional characters: not so the worthy taxpayers who having once pinched from real necessity retained even in the midst of their comfortable retirement, with their wall-fruit and wine-bins, the habit of regarding life as an ingenious process of nibbling out one's livelihood without leaving any perceptible deficit, and who would have been as immediately prompted to give up a newly-taxed luxury when they had their clear five hundred a year as when they had only five hundred pounds of capital.Mr Glegg was one of these men, found so impracticable by chancellors of the exchequer; and knowing this, you will be the better able to understand why he had not swerved from the conviction that he had made an eligible marriage, in spite of the too pungent seasoning that nature had given to the eldest Miss Dodson's virtues.A man with an affectionate disposition, who finds a wife to concur with his fundamental idea of life, easily comes to persuade himself that no other woman would have suited him so well, and does a little daily snapping and quarrelling without any sense of alienation.
Mr Glegg, being of a reflective turn, and no longer occupied with wool, had much wondering meditation on the peculiar constitution of the female mind as unfolded to him in his domestic life: and yet he thought Mrs Glegg's household ways a model for her ***: it struck him as a pitiable irregularity in other women if they did not roll up their table-napkins with the same tightness and emphasis as Mrs Glegg did, if their pastry had a less leathery consistence, and their damson cheese a less venerable hardness than hers:
nay, even the peculiar combination of grocery and drug-like odours in Mrs Glegg's private cupboard impressed him as the only right thing in the way of cupboard-smells.I am not sure that he would not have longed for the quarrelling again, if it had ceased for an entire week; and it is certain that an acquiescent mild wife would have left his meditations comparatively jejune and barren of mystery.
Mr Glegg's unmistakable kind-heartedness was shown in this, that it pained him more to see his wife at variance with others - even with Dolly, the servant - than to be in a state of cavil with her himself, and the quarrel between her and Mr Tulliver vexed him so much that it quite nullified the pleasure he would otherwise have had in the state of his early cabbages as he walked in his garden before breakfast the next morning.Still he went in to breakfast with some slight hope that now Mrs Glegg had `slept upon it,' her anger might be subdued enough to give way to her usually strong sense of family decorum.She had been used to boast that there had never been any of those deadly quarrels among the Dodsons which had disgraced other families: that no Dodson had ever been `cut off with a shilling'
and no cousin of the Dodsons disowned; as, indeed, why should they be?
for they had no cousins who had not money out at use, or some houses of their own, at the very least.
There was one evening-cloud which had always disappeared from Mrs Glegg's brow when she sat at the breakfast-table: it was her fuzzy front of curls;for as she occupied herself in household matters in the morning, it would have been a mere extravagance to put on anything so superfluous to the ****** of leathery pastry as a fuzzy curled front.By half-past ten decorum demanded the front: until then Mrs Glegg could economise it and society would never be any the wiser.But the absense of that cloud only left it more apparent that the cloud of severity remained; and Mr Glegg, perceiving this as he sat down to his milk-porridge, which it was his old frugal habit to stem his morning hunger with, prudently resolved to leave the first remark to Mrs Glegg, lest, to so delicate an article as a lady's temper, the slightest touch should do mischief.People who seem to enjoy their ill-temper have a way of keeping it in fine condition by inflicting privations on themselves.That was Mrs Glegg's way: she made her tea weaker than usual this morning and declined butter.It was a hard case that a vigorous mood for quarrelling, so highly capable of using any opportunity should not meet with a single remark from Mr Glegg on which to exercise itself.But by and by it appeared that his silence would answer the purpose, for he heard himself apostrophised at last in that tone peculiar to the wife of one's bosom.
`Well, Mr Glegg! it's a poor return I get for ****** you the wife I've made you all these years.If this is the way I'm to be treated, I'd better ha' known it before my poor father died, and then, when I'd wanted a home, I should ha' gone elsewhere - as the choice was offered me.'
Mr Glegg paused from his porridge and looked up - not with any new amazement but simply with that quiet, habitual wonder with which we regard constant mysteries.
`Why, Mrs G., what have I done now?'
`Done now, Mr Glegg? done now ?...I'm sorry for you.'
Not seeing his way in any pertinent answer, Mr Glegg reverted to his porridge.