The Bishop looked intently at her.
"Where is Scarlett?" he said.
"Hugh is gone," she said, stammering. "I have broken off my engagement with him. He will never come back."
And she fell suddenly on her knees, and hid her convulsed face against the arm of a chair.
The Bishop did not move. He waited for this paroxysm of anger to subside. He had never seen Rachel angry before in all the years he had known her, but he watched her without surprise. Only stupid people think that coal cannot burn as fiercely as tow.
She remained a long time on her knees, her face hidden. The Bishop did not hurry her. At last she began to sob silently, shuddering from head to foot.
Then he came and sat down near her, and took the cold clinched hands in his.
"Rachel, tell me," he said, gently.
She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them firmly. He obliged her to look up at him. She raised her fierce, disfigured face for a moment, and then let it fall on his hands and hers.
"I am a wicked woman," she said. "Don't trouble about me. I'm not worth it. I thought I would have kept all suffering from him, but now—if I could make him suffer—I would."