“I did not mean to speak rudely to my husband; but I had my own reasons for inquiring about Major Harper, from something Emma said to-day.”
“What was that?”
“How eager you look! Nay, I can keep a secret too. But no, I will not.” And the generous impulse burst out, even accompanied by a few childish tears and childish blushes. “She told me he had probably lost money. I wished to say that if such a trifle made him unhappy he might take as much as he liked of mine. That was all!”
Her husband regarded her with mingled emotions, which at last all melted into one—deep tenderness. “And you would do this, even for him? Thank God! I never doubted your goodness, Agatha. And I trusted you always.”
Wondering, yet half-pleased, to see him so moved, Agatha received his offered hand. “Then all is settled. Now tell me everything that passed between you.”
“I cannot.”
Gentle as the tone was, there was something in it which implied that to strive with Nathanael would be like beating against a marble wall. A great terror came over Agatha—she, who had lived like a wild bird, knowing no stronger will than her own. Then all the combativeness of her nature, hitherto dormant because she had known none worthy to contend against, awoke up, and tempted her to struggle fiercely with her chain.
She unloosed her hands and sprang from him. “Mr. Harper, you are teaching me early how men rule their wives.”
“I only ask my wife to trust me. She would, if she knew how great was the sacrifice.”
“What sacrifice? How many more mysteries am I to be led through blindfold?”