His face softened as he looked at her, but there was a good deal of sadness there, too.
“I do not believe you would deliberately listen to such words from him; but are not poisoned shafts launched sometimes that strike home and rankle? Has no one ever come between you and me, since the day you gave yourself to me in marriage?”
He saw her hesitation, and a great sadness came into his eyes. How near she was and yet how far! His heart ached for her in her loneliness and isolation, and it ached for himself too.
Monica broke the silence first.
“Randolph,” she said timidly; “no harm has been done to you, really? He cannot hurt you; can he?”
His face was stern as he answered her.
“He will hurt me if he can—through my wife. His threat is still unfulfilled; but he knows where to plant a blow, how to strike in the dark. Yes, Monica, he has hurt me.”
She drew back a pace.
“How?”