Rachel had never seen her husband in such a passion; indeed, she had never before known him in a state of mind to justify the use of such a word.  He was paler than his wont, his eyes brighter, his lips more bloodless.  Rachel experienced a strange sense of advantage, at once unprecedented and unforeseen, and with it an irresistible temptation to the sort of revenge which she knew to be petty at the time.  But he had made her suffer; for once it was her turn.  He could be cold as ice when she was not, could deny her his confidence when she all but fell upon her knees before him; he should learn what it was to be treated as he had treated her.

“I’m well aware of it,” said Rachel, with a harsh, dry laugh, “though in point of fact I don’t for a moment believe that he’ll give me away.  But really I don’t think it matters if he does.”

Steel stared; it was wonderful to her to see his face.

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeated in angry astonishment.

“Not to me,” rejoined Rachel, bitterly.  “You tell me nothing.  What can matter to me?  When you can tell me why you felt compelled to marry me—­when you have the courage to tell me that—­other things may begin to matter again!”

Steel stared harder than before; he did not flinch, but his eyes seemed to hedge together as he stared, and the glittering light in them to concentrate in one baleful gleam.  Yet it was not a cruel look; it was the look of a man who has sealed his lips upon one point for ever, and who views any questioning on that point as an attempt upon his treasury.  There was more of self-defence than of actual hostility in the compressed lips, the bloodless face, the glaring eyes.  Then, with a shrug, the look, the resentment, and the passion were shaken off, and Steel stepped briskly to the inner door, which he had shut in Rachel’s path.  Opening it, he bowed her through with a ceremony conspicuous even in their ceremonious relations.

But Rachel nursed her contrariety, even to the extent of a perverse satisfaction at her encounter with the judge, and a fierce enjoyment of its still possible consequences.  The mood was neither logical nor generous, and yet it was human enough in the actual circumstances of the case.  At last she had made him feel!  It had taken her the better part of a year, but here at last was something that he really felt.  And it had to do with her; it was impending disaster to herself which had brought about this change in her husband; she knew him too well not to acquit him of purely selfish solicitude for his own good name and comfortable status in a society for which he had no real regard.  There was never a man less dependent upon the good opinion of other men.  In absolute independence of character, as in sheer strength of personality, Steel stood by himself in the estimation of his wife.  But he had deceived her unnecessarily for weeks and months.  He had lied to her.  He had refused her his whole confidence when she begged him for it, and when he knew how he could trust her.  There was some deep mystery underlying their marriage, he could not deny it, yet he would not tell her what it was.