For she clung to no such hope as that which made
Dick Benyon dream of a resurrection of activity and of power, and had
nothing to look for save years of a life both to herself and to him
miserable. It might be sin to wish him dead; but was it sin to wish him
either alive or dead, either in vigour or at rest? Sin or no sin, that
was the desire in her heart, and it would not be stifled however much she
accused its inhumanity or recognised the want of love in it. Was the
fault all hers? With her lips still burning from the lie that she had
told for him, she could not answer 'yes.'
Still and silent Quisante lay on his bed. His head was quite clear now
and his eyes grew brighter. He watched Lady Mildmay as she ministered to
him, and he watched his wife with his old quick furtive glances, so keen
to mark every shade of her manner towards him. She had never really
deceived him as to her thoughts of him; she did not deceive him now. He
knew that her sympathies were estranged, more estranged than they had
ever been before. So far as the reason lay in the incident of Ashwood, it
was hidden from him; he knew nothing of the last great shame that he had
put on her.
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