She had brought herself to confess, in bitterness and anguish, that he did not love her, and never had, and that she was a miserable, unhappy dupe.
But, notwithstanding, she loved him still, though she dreaded the sight of him, for she got little from him now but oaths and taunts.
It was soon after their return from Brighton that he broke out, first on some trivial occasion, and cursed her aloud.

He said he hated the sight of her pale face, for it always reminded him of ruin and misery; that he had the greatest satisfaction in telling her that he was utterly ruined; that his father was dead, and had left his money elsewhere, and that her father was little better; that she would soon be in the workhouse; and, in fine, said everything that his fierce, wild, brutal temper could suggest.
She never tempted another outbreak of the kind; that one was too horrible for her, and crushed her spirit at once.

She only tried by mildness and submission to deprecate his rage.

But every day he came home looking fiercer and wilder; as time went on her heart sunk within her, and she dreaded something more fearful than she had experienced yet.
As I said, after a month or two, his first companions began to drop off, or only came, bullying and swearing, to demand money.

And now another class of men began to take their place, the sight of whom made her blood cold--worse dressed than the others, and worse mannered, with strange, foul oaths on their lips.