Part 58 (1/2)

”Oh, that's easy to say, isn't it?”

”It's the truth.”

”It's a lie--and you know it.”

”Will you moderate your language?” said Bence. ”Gentlemen, I beg your support. This lady must be protected from insult.”

But the attention of Marsden and his wife was so entirely concentrated on each other that neither of them seemed to hear the interruption.

”Richard, don't go on like this--don't force me to say unkind things which I shall regret later.”

”I knew there was some infernal mystery at the bottom of our troubles.

But, by Jove, I never guessed that it was _you_ who'd played false.”

”Richard, don't abuse me.”

”Abuse you? I shan't waste breath on abusing you. You have cheated me--or you've _tried_ to cheat me. For I'm not going to let you;” and he turned towards the others. ”Take notice, all of you, that I shan't submit to this. Prentice, do you understand? You were always hostile to me. I suppose you helped to hatch this plot.”

Mr. Prentice was looking so absolutely bewildered that his face should have been sufficient proof of his innocence.

”No,” he said feebly. ”All this has come upon me as a complete surprise.”

”Then you, Mr. Collins--understand it's all mighty fine, but it won't wash.”

”Won't it?” said Collins.

”No, I don't allow myself to be cheated--even by my wife.”

”Richard,” said Mrs. Marsden, ”don't call me a cheat again.”

”You there--Bence--take notice. I'll bring you to account for this. I'm not the sort to be tricked and fooled by any little swine that gets plotting with my wife. No, not if I know it. Cheating people is very clever, but--”

Mrs. Marsden sprang up from her chair by the wall.

”How dare you call me a cheat?”

Her eyes were blazing. She had clenched her fists; and, trembling with pa.s.sion, she came to the table and faced her husband.

”What have you ever given me in exchange for all I gave you--except shame and sorrow?”

”I'm not going to listen to your yelling and--”

”I gave you my love, and you trampled on it--I gave you my home, and you polluted it--I gave you the work of my life, and you pulled it to pieces before my eyes. Yet still I was true and loyal to you. I could have divorced you, and I wouldn't do it. I promised you that I'd hold to you till you yourself consented to set me free; and I kept my promise. You were a liar--but I respected your words. You were a thief--but I dealt with you as if you had been an honest man. I fed and clothed you when you were well, I nursed you when you were sick--I hid your crimes, I sheltered you from their consequences. At this minute I am keeping you out of the prison that is your only proper place.... And yet--great G.o.d--he has the audacity to say that I am cheating him!”

And then Mrs. Marsden, shaking in excitement and anger, went back to her chair and sat down.

”You asked for that,” said Collins, with renewed facetiousness, ”and you got it.”

Bence was looking out of the window; and he whistled and gently clapped his hands, as if applauding the pa.s.sionate force of Mrs. Marsden's unexpected tirade.

”I don't know what she means,” said Marsden hoa.r.s.ely. ”And I dare say she doesn't know, herself.” He had been staggered by his wife's attack; and at her last words he recoiled from the table, as if suddenly daunted, almost cowed. Now he was pulling himself together again. ”Who cares what a woman says?” And he cleared his throat, and spoke loudly and defiantly. ”I don't, for one.”