"Nathan!" she cried, "I swear by my dead mother that he touched my hand to-day for the first time."
He gave a short laugh.
"What if I believe you?" he said. "Shall we divide you between us? Shall I possess you, and he have your love? Are you not mine, body and soul? and if you could not be altogether mine, why did you become my wife?"
She stepped close up to him, and said, with a despairing gesture, and a sharp ring in her voice: "Do not be so hard, Nathan. I have been a true wife to you; but when you ask why I married you, I reply, that my wishes were never consulted."
Her words seemed to strike him, for he could not answer, and there was a long silence.
She buried her face in the sofa-cushions.
At last he said, "Go—we will talk of this to-morrow."
She left the room.
He bolted the door and resumed his restless pacing up and down. The old servant knocked at the door—she had brought the supper-tray, but he dismissed her at once. She went away grumbling, and he heard her afterward saying to the cook: "God knows what is the matter! The master has locked himself into the parlor, and the mistress is in her bedroom. Neither of them will have any supper."
A hot flush of shame mounted quickly to Nathan's face.