Half an hour afterwards Aunt Bridget came to me in my mother's room.
Never in my life before had I been pleased to see her. She, at least,
would see my situation with a woman's eyes. But I was doomed to another
disappointment.
"Goodness me, girl," she cried, "what's this your father tells me? One
of your own guests, is it? That one with the big eyes I'll go bail.
Well, serve you right, I say, for bringing a woman like that into the
house with your husband--so smart and such a quality toss with her. If
you were lonely coming home why didn't you ask your aunt or your first
cousin? There would have been no trouble with your husband then--not
about me at all events. But what are you thinking of doing?"
"Getting a divorce," I answered, firmly, for my heart was now aflame.
If I had held a revolver in Aunt Bridget's face she could not have
looked more shocked.
"Mary O'Neill, are you mad?" she cried. "Divorce indeed! No woman of
our family has ever disgraced herself like that. What will your father
say? What's to happen to Betsy Beauty? What are people going to think
about me?"
I answered that I had not made my marriage, and those who had made it
must take the consequences.
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