Yours sincerely,
Linnet Hausberger.’ ”
Andreas darted at her, livid with rage and jealousy. “You shall not send that note!” he exclaimed, in German. “I forbid him the house. He shall not come near you.”
Linnet darted aside, for her part, and held the note out to Ellen. The girl, terrified at such a scene, and at her master’s loud voice, drew back, not daring to interpose or to take it. Linnet held it at arm’s-length. Andreas seized her arm and wrenched it. “You shan’t send it,” he cried once more, clutching her wrist with his hand till his nails drew blood from it. He tried to seize the note again, but Linnet was strong and resisted him. He flung her violently to the ground; but still she held it out, crying, “Here, post it, Ellen!” Andreas was beside himself now with rage and fury. He struck her several times; he hit her wildly with his fist; he caught her by the hair and shook her angrily like a bulldog. The marks of his hands showed red through her thin dress upon her neck and shoulders. At last he seized the note, and tore it into shreds, flung the tatters into her face, and struck her again heavily. Linnet bent down and let him strike. Her blood was up now. She was angry too. And she also had inherited the hot heart of the Tyrol.
At last, Andreas’s passion cooled down of pure fatigue, and, with a final oath or two, he turned on his heel and left her. As he quitted the room, he stood for a second with his hand on the door, looking round at the startled and horrified maid-servant. “Mind, Ellen,” he said, huskily, “post no letters for your mistress this afternoon; and if the man Deverill calls, she isn’t at home to him.”
But, as the front door closed with a snap behind him, it came back to him all at once, that wise and prudent man, that he had played into her rebellious hands all unawares; he had given her the one plea she still needed for a divorce—the plea of cruelty.
CHAPTER XLI
GOD’S LAW—OR MAN’S?
Linnet took less than one minute to make up her mind. Not twice in his life should Andreas treat her so before her own servants. She was too proud to cry; but as soon as her husband had left the room she picked herself up from the floor where he had brutally flung her, wiped the blood from her arm, smoothed her hair with her hand, and motioned silently to Ellen to follow her into her bedroom. She motioned to her, because she couldn’t trust herself to speak without crying, and never now should she allow that hateful man to wring a single tear from her. In those few brief moments, she had decided once for all what she meant to do. After all that had passed just now, she must leave him instantly. The crisis had come; Andreas Hausberger should suffer for it.