g. Her last words had killed the
little hope that still lived in me.

"It happened at Rome," she went on, as wearily calm and cold as ever.
"We were at a little party given to the English by some friends of Sir
Percival's--Mr. and Mrs. Markland. Mrs. Markland had the reputation of
sketching very beautifully, and some of the guests prevailed on her to
show us her drawings. We all admired them, but something I said
attracted her attention particularly to me. 'Surely you draw
yourself?' she asked. 'I used to draw a little once,' I answered, 'but
I have given it up.' 'If you have once drawn,' she said, 'you may take
to it again one of these days, and if you do, I wish you would let me
recommend you a master.' I said nothing--you know why, Marian--and
tried to change the conversation. But Mrs. Markland persisted. 'I
have had all sorts of teachers,' she went on, 'but the best of all, the
most intelligent and the most attentive, was a Mr. Hartright. If you
ever take up your drawing again, do try him as a master. He is a young
man--modest and gentlemanlike--I am sure you will like him. 'Think of
those words being spoken to me publicly, in the presence of
strangers--strangers who had been invited to meet the bride and
bridegroom! I did all I could to control myself--I said nothing, and
looked down close at the drawings. When I ventured to raise my head
again, my eyes and my husband's eyes met, and I knew, by his look, that
my face had betrayed me. 'We will see about Mr. Hartright,' he said,
looking at me all the time, 'when we get back to England. I agree with
you, Mrs. Markland--I think Lady Glyde is sure to like him.' He laid an
emphasis on the last words which made my cheeks burn, and set my heart
beating as if it would stifle me. Nothing more was said. We came away
early. He was silent in the carriage driving back to the hotel. He
helped me out, and followed me upstairs as usual. But the moment we
were in the drawing-room, he locked the door, pushed me down into a
chair, and stood over me with his hands on my shoulders. 'Ever since
that morning when you made your audacious confession to me at
Limmeridge,' he said, 'I have wanted to find out the man, and I found
him in your face to-night. Your drawing-master was the man, and his
name is Hartright. You shall repent it, and he shall repent it, to the
last hour of your lives. Now go to bed and dream of him if you like,
with the marks of my horsewhip on his s