 overwhelmed the spirit of compassion
for the foolish wretched husband. Dolt, the man must be, Redworth thought; and
he asked inwardly, Did the miserable tyrant suppose of a woman like this, that
she would be content to shine as a candle in a grated lanthorn? The generosity
of men speculating upon other men's possessions is known. Yet the man who loves
a woman has to the full the husband's jealousy of her good name. And a lover,
that without the claims of the alliance, can be wounded on her behalf, is less
distracted in his homage by the personal luminary, to which man's manufacture of
balm and incense is mainly drawn when his love is wounded. That contemplation of
her incomparable beauty, with the multitude of his ideas fluttering round it,
did somewhat shake the personal luminary in Redworth. He was conscious of pangs.
The question bit him: How far had she been indiscreet or wilful? and the bite of
it was a keen acid to his nerves. A woman doubted by her husband, is always, and
even to her champions in the first hours of the noxious rumour, until they have
solidified in confidence through service, a creature of the wilds, marked for
our ancient running. Nay, more than a cynical world, these latter will be
sensible of it. The doubt casts her forth, the general yelp drags her down; she
runs like the prey of the forest under spotting branches; clear if we can think
so, but it has to be thought in devotedness: her character is abroad. Redworth
bore a strong resemblance to his fellowmen, except for his power of faith in
this woman. Nevertheless it required the superbness of her beauty and the
contrasting charm of her humble posture of kneeling by the fire, to set him on
his right track of mind. He knew and was sure of her. He dispersed the
unhallowed fry in attendance upon any stirring of the reptile part of us, to
look at her with the eyes of a friend. And if ...! - a little mouse of a thought
scampered out of one of the chambers of his head and darted along the passages,
fetching a sweat to his brows. Well, whatsoever the fact, his heart was hers! He
hoped he could be charitable to women.
    She rose from her knees and said: »Now, please, give me the letter.«
    He was entreated to excuse her for consigning him to firelight when she left
the room.
    Danvers brought in a dismal tallow candle, remarking that her mistress had
not expected visitors: her mistress
