Irene did not comprehend her husband's state of mind. She felt
painfully the change in his manner, but failed in reaching the true
cause. Sometimes she attributed his coldness to resentment;
sometimes to defect of love; and sometimes to a settled
determination on his part to inflict punishment. Sometimes she spent
hours alone, weeping over these sad ruins of her peace, and
sometimes, in a spirit of revolt, she laid down for herself a line
of conduct intended to react against her husband. But something in
his calm, kind, self-reliant manner, when she looked into his face,
broke down her purpose. She was afraid of throwing herself against a
rock which, while standing immovable, might bruise her tender limbs
or extinguish life in the strong concussion.