The whole change that
her life had perforce undergone was an outrage upon the stubbornness
of uninstructed habit; the old woman could see nothing but evil
omens in a revolution which cost her bodily discomfort and the
misery of a mind perplexed amid alien conditions. She was prepared
for evil; for months she had brooded over every sign which seemed to
foretell its approach; the egoism of the unconscious had made it
plain to her that the world must suffer in a state of things which
so grievously affected herself. Maternal solicitude kept her
restlessly swaying between apprehension for her children and injury
in the thought of their estrangement from her. And now at length a
bitter shame added itself to her torments. She was shamed in her
pride as a mother, shamed before the girl for whom she nourished a
deep affection. Emma's injuries she felt charged upon herself; she
would never dare to stand before her again. Her moral code, as much
a part of her as the sap of the plant and as little the result of
conscious absorption, declared itself on the side of all these
rushing impulses; she was borne blindly on an exhaustless flux of
words. After vain attempts to make herself heard, Alice turned away
and sat sullenly waiting for the outburst to spend itself. Herself
comparatively unaffected by the feelings strongest in her mother,
this ear-afflicting clamour altogether checked her sympathy, and in
a great measure overcame those personal reasons which had made her
annoyed with Richard.
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