h. Oh, fool!--that men should
be so vile, and think themselves masters of the world! My last word to
you is, that you are--a liar. Now for the present you can go. Ten
minutes since, had I had a weapon in my hand I should have shot
another man.'

Paul Montague, as he looked round the room for his hat, could not but
think that perhaps Mrs Hurtle might have had some excuse. It seemed at
any rate to be her custom to have a pistol with her,--though luckily,
for his comfort, she had left it in her bedroom on the present
occasion. 'I will say good-bye to you,' he said, when he had found his
hat.

'Say no such thing. Tell me that you have triumphed and got rid of me.
Pluck up your spirits, if you have any, and show me your joy. Tell me
that an Englishman has dared to ill-treat an American woman. You
would,--were you not afraid to indulge yourself.' He was now standing
in the doorway, and before he escaped she gave him an imperative
command. 'I shall not stay here now,' she said--'I shall return on
Monday. I must think of what you have said, and must resolve what I
myself will do. I shall not bear this without seeking a means of
punishing you for your treachery. I shall expect you to come to me on
Monday.'

He closed the door as he answered her. 'I do not see that it will
serve any purpose.'

'It is for me, sir, to judge of that. I suppose you are not so much a
coward that you are afraid to come to me. If so, I shall come to you;
and you may be assured that I shall not be too timid to show myself
and to tell my story.' He ended by saying that if she desired it he
would wait upon her, but that he would not at present fix a day. On
his return to town he would write to her.

When he was gone she went to the door and listened awhile. Then she
closed it, and turning the lock, stood with her back against the door
and with her hands clasped. After a few moments she ran forward, and
falling on her knees, buried her face in her hands upon the table.
Then she gave way to a flood of tears, and at last lay rolling upon
the floor.

Was this to be the end of it? Should she never know rest;--never have
one draught of cool water between her lips? Was there to be no end to
the storms and turmoils and misery of her life? In almost all that she
had said she had spoken the truth, though doubtless not all the truth,--
as which among us would in giving the story of his life? She had
endured violence, and had been violent. She had been scheme