“It isn’t often that I drink wine, Joan,” he said, “for I hold it sinful waste not but what there’ll always be wine for you if you want it. But this is a night to make merry on, seeing that a man isn’t married every day,” and he finished the last of the champagne. “Oh! Joan,” he added, “it’s like a dream to think that you’ve come to me at last. You don’t know how I’ve longed for you all these months; and now you are mine, mine, my own beautiful Joan for those whom God has joined together no man can put asunder, however much they may try. I kept my oath to you faithful, didn’t I, Joan? and now it’s your turn to keep yours to me. You remember what you swore that you would be a true and good wife to me, and that you wouldn’t see nothing of that villain who deceived you. I suppose that you haven’t seen him during all these months, Joan?”
“If you mean Sir Henry Graves,” she answered, “I met him to-day as I walked to Monk’s Vale station.”
“Did you now?” he said, with a curious writhing of the lips: “that’s strange, isn’t it, that you should happen to go to Monk’s Lodge without saying nothing to your husband about it, and that there you should happen to meet him within a few hours of his getting back to England? I suppose you didn’t speak to him, did you?”
“I spoke a few words.”
“Ah! a few words. Well, that was wrong of you, Joan, for it’s against your oath; but I dare say that they were to tell him just to keep clear in future?”
Joan nodded, for she dared not trust herself to speak.
“Well, then, that’s all right, and he’s done with. And now, Joan, as we’ve finished supper, you come here like a good wife, and put your arms round my neck and kiss me, and tell me that you love me, and that you hate that man, and are glad that the brat is dead.”
Joan sat silent, making no answer. For a few moments he waited as though expecting her to move, then he rose and came towards her with outstretched arms.
Seeing his intention, she sprang from her chair and slipped to the other side of the table.
“Come,” he said, “don’t run from me, for our courting days are over, and it’s silly in a wife. Are you going to say what I asked you, Joan?”