"Does she?" he said. "Then she may want it! Not one single farthing of my money shall she have, that I swear!" and he thumped his hand down upon the table with violence.
"What am I to do?" asked his wife, in a tone of distress.
"What do I care? I feed and clothe you because you are my wife. I told you before I have not married your sister, and I will have nothing to do with her."
"I must go and see her, then, and make some arrangement for her," said Margaret, turning away.
"Not so fast," he said, while a laugh rang through the room that made her shiver again. "You do not go out again without me. I can tell you I am not going to allow a wretched stick of a fellow to run about with my wife any more—no, no!"
For one second, fear lest Sir Albert's escort should have been known to him—in itself so innocent, but perhaps she now thought imprudent—she coloured a little, and he noticed it, and it increased his rage.
"Mr. Lyons never shall have the pleasure of escorting you again," he said. "I will take care of that. Darby and Joan—Darby and Joan!" and another wild burst of laughter rang out.
Margaret left him to think over her next step, and to send Grace a few lines to account for her non-appearance. She resolved to write to Mrs. Dorriman, and to lay before her something of her sad position. The whole truth she could not bring herself to put down.
But time went on; she got no letter from Grace nor from Mrs. Dorriman. Her husband seemed to spend his whole time in watching her, and if she attempted to go out he was beside her. She appealed to the man-servant, but he told her he was only there to see that her husband did not go out alone, and did not drink, for nothing else; that he could not interfere. "I cannot aid and abet you, madam," he said; "it may be your sister, again it may not be, and if something comes of it, it will not look well for me."
Margaret's indignant young face quelled him, and he stopped short.