“ Mr. Jarndyce,” said Gridley with a rough sort of salutation, “you bear your wrongs more quietly than I can bear mine. More than that, I tell you⁠—and I tell this gentleman, and these young ladies, if they are friends of yours⁠—that if I took my wrongs in any other way, I should be driven mad! It is only by resenting them, and by revenging them in my mind, and by angrily demanding the justice I never get, that I am able to keep my wits together. It is only that!” he said, speaking in a homely, rustic way and with great vehemence. “You may tell me that I over-excite myself. I answer that it’s in my nature to do it, under wrong, and I must do it. There’s nothing between doing it, and sinking into the smiling state of the poor little mad woman that haunts the court. If I was once to sit down under it, I should become imbecile.”

The passion and heat in which he was, and the manner in which his face worked, and the violent gestures with which he accompanied what he said, were most painful to see.