She could not endure to look
at him and, rising, went and stood by the window, looking out on the
river she loved. This moment was in strange contrast with their talk on
Duty Hill; the two together summed up her married life and the nature of
the man she had married. But it was not true that she wished him dead;
not true now, at all events, even though the charge he brought against
her of its having been so once might have some truth in it. For if ever
that thought had crept into her mind as a dreaded shameful wish, it was
when she seemed able to look forward to a new life. It seemed to her now
that no new life was possible; that impression had grown and grown while
she talked with Weston Marchmont, and it pressed upon her now with the
weight of conviction.
She heard her husband get up and go out of the room; his steps sounded
going upstairs, in the direction of his study. She went and drew the
chair up to the hearthrug, and sat down, resting her elbows on the arms
and holding her head between her hands. It was very wanton that a chance
allusion of his should have brought about this scene between them.
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