Ada Leicester paused; she was ashamed to own, even before that devoted servant, how closely the adder still folded himself in her bosom. She turned pale, but still answered with unfaltering voice, "Jacob, I hate him!"
"Not yet—not as you ought to hate him," answered Jacob, regarding her pallid face so searchingly that his own cheek whitened, "but when you see him in all his villany, as I have seen him; when you know all!"
"And do I not know all? What is it you keep from me? What is there to learn more vile—more terrible than the past?"
"What if I tell you that within a month, William Leicester, your husband, will be married to another woman?"
"Married! married to another!—Leicester—my——" she broke off, for her white lips refused to utter another syllable. After a momentary struggle she started up—"does he think that I am dead?—does he hope that night has killed me?"
"He knows that you are living; but thinks you have returned to England."
"But this is crime—punishable crime."
"I know that it is."
A faint, incredulous smile stole over her lips, and she waved her hand. "He will not violate the law; never was a bad man more prudent."
"He will be married to-morrow night."