Then first arose the wish, often in woman's life repeated, to have been
born a man and know how to help her father. That suggested that she had
brothers who ought to be summoned, and confer with their father; but now
it occurred to her that every one of them had leaned upon him; and,
though conscious that it was wicked, Vesta felt her pride rise against
the thought that any being outside of that house, even a brother, should
know of its disgrace.
What could she do? She thought of all her jewels, her riding mare, her
watch, her father's own gifts, and then the thought perished that these
could help him.
Could she not earn something by her voice, which had sung to such
praises? Alas! that voice had lost the ingredient of hope, and she
feared to unclose her lips lest it might come forth in agony, crying,
"God, have mercy!"
"I have nothing," said Vesta to herself; "except love for these two
martyrs, my father and mother. No, nothing can be done until he awakens
and tells me the worst. Meantime it would be wicked for me to increase
the agitation already here, and where I must be the comforter."
CHAPTER VII.
JACK-O'-LANTERN IRON.
Mrs. Custis was in no situation to give annoyance for that day, as a
sick-headache seized her and she kept her room. Infirm of will, purely
social in her marriage relations, and never aiming higher than
respectability, she missed the coarse mark of her husband who, with all
his moral defections, probably was her moral equal, his vital standard
higher, his tone a genial hypocrisy, and at bottom he was a democrat.
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