He still glared at her without answering.
“I am no ‘illusion,’” she continued, more steadily, gaining more self-control every moment.
“If not—what—in the devil—are you?” he gasped at length, terrified, yet aggressive.
“I am your wife; but shall never claim, or wish to claim, the position,” she replied, still keeping her eyes down to avoid the pain of seeing his face.
“You are—I do not—I thought——How——” he began, in utter confusion of mind, and with his eyes starting from the intensity of his stare.
“Go away, please, and collect yourself. Do not fear me. I shall not trouble you. But pray, go now, and do not come near me or speak to me again,” said Jennie.
“But I thought—you were dead!” he blurted out, with brutal bluntness.
Jennie reflected for a moment. Why should he have thought that she was dead, even though he had tried to kill her, and had indeed left her for dead? Then she concluded that he must have fled from the city immediately after having committed the crime by which he had intended to rid himself of her forever; but she made no reply to his remark.
“Why have you followed me here?” he demanded, trying to cover his intense anxiety with an air of bravado.
“I did not follow you. I did not know that you were to be on this boat. How should I have known it? And why should I have followed you?” she calmly inquired.