“‘Oh, if the folks at home could see me now they would say it paid,’ she thought, as she walked up and down the apartment, trailing her silken robe after her, and catching frequent flashes of her beauty in the mirrors as she passed.
“And still there was a little of the old homesickness left, a yearning for companionship, for somebody to see her, somebody to talk to, and then she remembered her resolution to try to love her husband, and she said again: ‘I’ll do it, and I’ll begin to-night.’
“But where was he that he left her thus alone, walking up and down, until, too tired to walk longer, she seated herself upon a satin couch to await his coming, little dreaming as she sat there of the scene which had taken place between him and Madame Verwest, who had invited him to her own room, and then turning fiercely upon him, demanded: ‘Tell me, is she your wife, or another Agatha, brought here to beat her wings against her prison bars until death gives her release? She is too young for that, too beautiful, too innocent, with those childish eyes of blue. Tell me you mean well by her, or——’
“She did not finish her threat, save by a stamp of her foot and an angry flash of the eyes, which had looked so pityingly at Anna, for Haverleigh interrupted her with a coarse laugh, and said: ‘Spare yourself all uneasiness and puny threats which can avail nothing. You are as much in my power as she. Honestly, though, this girl is as lawfully my wife as a New England parson could make her.’
“‘New England,’ and the woman started as if stung. ‘Is she an American? Is she from New England? You wrote me she was English born.’
“‘Did I? I had forgotten it. Well, then, she is an American and a New Englander, and her name was Anna Strong, and she worked in a shoe-shop in Millfield, where I stopped for a few months on account of the scenery first, and her pretty face afterward. I married her for love, and because I fancied she loved me a little; but I have found she does not, and so she shall pay the penalty, but have her price all the same, diamonds and pearls, with satins and laces and a dress for every day of the month.’
“He spoke bitterly, and in his eyes there was a look which boded no good to Anna, but Madame Verwest scarcely heard him. At the mention of Anna’s name and Millfield she had laid her hand suddenly over her heart, which beat so loudly that she could hear it herself, while her eyes had in them a concentrated, far-off look, and she evidently was not thinking of the objects around her, the old chateau and the dreadful man who brought her back to the present by saying:
“‘I shall leave her here with you for a time, and it is my wish that she has everything she wants except, of course, her freedom; you understand?’
“She did understand; she had been through the same thing once before, and she shuddered as she remembered the dark-haired, white-faced girl, who had died in that gloomy house, with wild snatches of song upon her lips, songs of ‘Ma Normandie,’ and the home where she had once been pure and innocent. ‘Je vais re voir, ma Normandie’ poor Agatha had sung as the breath was leaving her quivering lips, and the sad, sweet refrain had seemed to Madame Verwest to haunt the old chateau ever since, and now was she destined to hear another death-song or moaning cry for New England instead of Normandy? ‘Never!’ was her mental reply, and to herself she vowed that the fate of Anna Strong should not be like that of Agatha Wynde. But she could do nothing then except to bow in acquiescence as she listened to Haverleigh’s instructions, and from them gathered what his intentions were. Not to desert Anna absolutely; he could not bring himself to do that, for the love he had felt for her was not yet extinct; but she had offended him deeply, and had hurt his pride, and for the present she was a prisoner in Chateau d’Or, till such time as he chose to set her free, or ‘till she recovers her reason, you know,’ he said to Madame Verwest, who made no sign that she heard him, but whose face was white as ashes as she went out from his presence, and gave orders that dinner was to be served at once in the grand salle-a-manger, which was all ablaze with wax candles and tapers when Haverleigh led his bride thither, and gave her a place at the head of his table.
“He had found her asleep on the couch, where she had thrown herself from sheer fatigue, and for a moment had stood looking down upon her childish, beautiful face, while something like pity did for an instant stir his stony heart. But only for an instant, for when he remembered her words, ‘I do not love him, and never expect to,’ he hardened against her at once, and the gleam in his eye was the gleam of a mad man as he touched her arm and bade her rouse herself.