' When, this
afternoon, I lay there in the boat, coming up this dreadful river
through the glare of the lightning, and you thought I slept, I was
thinking, 'The bolts may strike me yet, and all will be well.' I
prayed for that death, but the storm passed. I am not without
shame. I know that you must think all ill of me, that you must feel
yourself gulled and cheated. I am sorry - that is all I can say - I am
sorry. I am your wife - I was married to you to-day - but I know
you not and love you not. I ask you to hold me as I hold myself, a
guest in your house, nothing more. I am quite at your mercy. I am
entirely friendless, entirely alone. I appeal to your generosity, to
your honor" -
Before I could prevent her she was kneeling to me, and she would
not rise, though I bade her do so.
I went to the door, unbarred it, and looked out into the night, for
the air within the room stifled me. It was not much better outside.
The clouds had gathered again, and were now hanging thick and
low. From the distance came a rumble of thunder, and the whole
night was dull, heavy, and breathless. Hot anger possessed me:
anger against Rolfe for suggesting this thing to me; anger against
myself for that unlucky throw; anger, most of all, against the
woman who had so cozened me. In the servants' huts, a hundred
yards away, lights were still burning, against rule, for the hour was
late.
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