“Surely you are jesting, Jacob,” she said, at length. “You are only saying this to try me. Is it not so? I will only ask you this once. Are you in earnest?”
“I declare to you, Margaret, that you are not my wedded wife.”
“Then,” she said in a sudden burst of fury, to which she was urged by the sharpness of her despair. “Then I have only one thing to live for now.”
She turned away.
“What do you mean?” asked Jacob, almost involuntarily, her manner producing a vague uneasiness.
“Revenge!”
She drew her tattered shawl closely about her, and, though the heat was intense, actually shivered in her fierce emotion. Jacob looked after her as she walked rapidly away, turning neither to the right nor to the left, and a half feeling of compunction came over him. It was only for a moment, however, for he shook it off, muttering impatiently,—
“Pshaw! what’s the use of fretting! It must have come sooner or later. I suppose it was only natural to expect a scene. Well, I’m glad it’s over, at any rate. Now I shall have one impediment out of my path.”
Jacob’s nature was cold and cowardly, and, as may be inferred, essentially selfish. Destitute of all the finer feelings, it was quite impossible to understand the pain which he had inflicted on a nature so sensitive and high-strung as that of Margaret. Nor, had he been able to understand, would the instinct of humanity have bidden him to refrain.
He retraced his steps to obtain another glass of water, for the one in his hand had been spilled in the surprise of his first meeting with Margaret.