"Take him away," she said, addressing the men. "If you have a warrant, use it quickly. Drag him from my sight, anywhere, so that he is taken far enough, and buried deep enough."
"Ellen! Ellen!"
The cry of his anguish would have touched a stone with mercy, but she only drew a sob, and went on, bitter as death, and sharp as steel. He knew that venomous truth was spiking up through her rage, and while she was treading him to the earth, the viper in his nature crested itself against her.
"You married me for these," he said, pointing to her bosom, which heaved with rage under its flaming ornaments. "I may be guilty, but not more guilty than you are, Ellen."
"Take him away—take him away," she cried, "or I shall die."
"One moment," exclaimed Thrasher, desperately; "Ellen speak to me alone. It may be my last request."
Had she been alone, I think the woman would have refused him—but with all those eyes turned upon her, she could only step aside to one of those little boudoirs that his wealth had fitted up for her.
"Well?" she said, haughtily turning upon him as he stood before her, pale and shrinking.
"Ellen—Ellen, do not be so cruel to me; if I have sinned, it was from the love that made me desperate. If I have wronged you, think what I gave up for your sake—how much I risked—how much I have endured."
"Well?" she repeated, growing hard and stern with each word, "what more?"