This last thought flashed upon her like a flash of fire, and dried up the last glad warm drops of blood in her unhappy heart.
Oh, what a horrible fate it seemed to be—compelled to leave the house in which she had been happy from her earliest infancy—in which she had lived with those whom she loved and honoured most in the world!
She glanced tearfully round the room, as if to engrave everything it contained more firmly on her memory. Perhaps she might never enter that room again.
All was silent below. Then she heard the door open and shut; then the voice of Kitty; then another interval of silence.
There were then minutes of terrible silence. She heard a slow and solemn footstep upon the stairs. She held her breath; her tears ceased to flow.
She flung herself into a chair, and raised her eyes full of repentance to the pale calm face of her injured husband.
“I’ve got rid of un for good and for all; heaven be praised for that,” said Ashbrook.
“Oh, Richard!” exclaimed Patty; “beat me; beat me heavily, for I deserve it, but do not drive me from you. I could not live away from you.”
“I hope not,” returned he, placing his broad brown hand upon her shoulders. “Nobody would wish it—leastways not me.” His voice was gentle with love, tremulous with pity.
“I say I have got rid of that viper whom I ha’ bin foolish enough to cherish. I ought to be set down as a born idiot for my foolishness. But we are none on us wise at all times.”