What should she do? He was coming again, and an insane desire came upon her to seek for the window and cast herself out—anything to avoid meeting him now.
At last, when the mental agony of suspense was more than she could bear longer, the door was suddenly opened, the light shone in, and a low hoarse cry of horror subsided into a wail of relief, for there stood the same woman, pale, even ghastly, holding a candle above her head, and with a dull, angry look upon her countenance as she entered the room.
“Well,” she said harshly, “are you satisfied?”
“I don’t understand you,” said Gertrude eagerly, as she crept towards her; “but you are a woman. Pray, pray help me to get away from this dreadful place. For indeed it is dreadful to me,” continued Gertrude, catching at the woman’s hand, but only for her to snatch it angrily away.
“You don’t know it as I do,” she said, “or you would call it a dreadful place. Don’t touch me: I hate you!”
“No, no, I never injured you!” cried Gertrude piteously. “Oh, as you are a woman, help me! Here, look, I will reward you. Take this.”
She hastily detached her watch and chain, and held them out.
“Pah!” exclaimed the woman, “what are they to me? I’ve seen him and them bring scores of them, and rich jewels, diamonds and pearls—I’m sick of them; and do you think I would take that from you?”
“Why not?” cried Gertrude. “Oh, have you no pity for me?”
“Pity? Pity for you! Why, are you not his wife?”