Free The Four Swans by Winston Graham Page A

expected her to be in; she-was fond of his daughters and they after a probationary period, of her; she attended church, tall and slender - well, fairly slender anyhow; she sat at his table and ate his food; she wore in her own undistinguished way the clothes he had had made for her; she discussed church affairs with him, sometimes even town affairs; when he went to a reception - such as the Penvenen wedding - she was at his side.. She did not chatter at meals like Esther, she did not complain when she was unwell, she did not fritter money away on trivialities, she had a dignity that his first wife had quite lacked. Indeed she might have been the sort of woman he would be thoroughly pleased with, if the unfortunate but necessarily main purpose of matrimony’ could have been ignored.
    It could not. Last week when performing the wedding ceremony in his own church he had allowed his mind to wander from its immediate task and ponder a moment on his own marriage and the three purposes for which the Prayer Book said matrimony had been ordained. The first, the procreation of children, was already being fulfilled. The third, for the mutual comfort and society etc., was fair enough; she was there most times and did his will. It was the second which was the stumbling block. `a remedy I against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.’ Well, he had not the gift of, continency, and she was there to save him from fornication. It was not for her to shiver and shudder at his touch. `Wives,’ St Paul had said, `submit yourselves unto your own husbands as unto the Lord.’ He had said it both in his Epistle to the Ephesians and in his Epistle to the Colossians. It was not for her to look on her husband’s body with horror and disgust.
    So at times she goaded him into sin. Sometimes he hurt her when he need not. Once he had twisted her feet in his hands until she cried out; but that must not happen again. It had troubled him in the night. He blamed her for that.
    But: today in the presence of three young women, he was at his best. Secure in his dignity - he had told Morwenna before they came that they must call him Mr Whitworth to his face but must always refer to him among others as the Vicar - he could unbend and be clumsily genial. He stood on the hearthrug with his hands behind his back and his coattails over his arms and talked to them of parish affairs and the shortcomings of the town, while they sipped tea and murmured replies and laughed politely at his jokes. Then, unbending still further, he told them in detail of a hand of cards he had played last night, and Morwenna breathed again, for to confide in this way was always a sign of his approval. He played whist three nights a, week it was his abiding passion, and the play of the previous night was his customary topic at breakfast.
    Before leaving them to their own devices he clearly thought it necessary to correct any impression of lightness in his manner or conversation and so launched into a summary of his views on the war, England’s food shortage, the dangerous spread of discontent, the debasement of money, and the opening of a new burial ground in Truro. Thus having done his duty, he rang the bell for the servant to clear away the tea - Garlanda had not quite finished - and left them, to return to his study.
    It was a time before normal conversation broke out again between the three, girls, and then it was centred wholly upon the affairs of Bodmin and news they could exchange of friends in common. The sunny-tempered, outspoken, practical Garlanda was aching to ask; all the questions she would normally have asked, all about preparations for the coming baby, and was Morwenna happy in her married life, and how did it feel to be a vicar’s wife instead of a dean’s daughter, and had she met many people socially; in the town and what new dresses had she had made? But