had taught him (by example, perhaps, more than by precept) of the
feelings of others, was continually prompting him to do things
that she, for the time being, resented as mortal affronts. He
would mimic the clergyman she specially esteemed, even to his
very face; he would refuse to visit her schools for months and
months; and, when wearied into going at last, revenge himself by
puzzling the children with the most ridiculous questions (gravely
put) that he could imagine.

All these boyish tricks annoyed and irritated her far more than
the accounts which reached her of more serious misdoings at
college and in town. Of these grave offences she never spoke; of
the smaller misdeeds she hardly ever ceased speaking.

Still, at times, she had great influence over him, and nothing
delighted her more than to exercise it. The submission of his
will to hers was sure to be liberally rewarded; for it gave her
great happiness to extort, from his indifference or his
affection, the concessions which she never sought by force of
reason, or by appeals to principle--concessions which he
frequently withheld, solely for the sake of asserting his
independence of her control.

She was anxious for him to marry Miss Duncombe. He cared little
or nothing about it--it was time enough to be married ten years
hence; and so he was dawdling through some months of his
life--sometimes flirting with the nothing-loth Miss Duncombe,
sometimes plaguing, and sometimes delighting his mother, at all
times taking care to please himself--when he first saw Ruth
Hilton, and a new, passionate, hearty feeling shot through his