He would not even say
that he trusted her. It was manifest that he did not trust her, and
that he believed at this moment that she was endeavouring to rob him in
this matter of the deed. He had asked her if she had it in her desk or
among her clothes, and her very soul revolted from the suspicion so
implied. She would never speak to him again. It was all over. No; she
would never willingly speak to him again.
But what would she do? For a few minutes she fell back, as is so
natural with mortals in trouble, upon that religion which she had been
so willing to outrage by marrying the Jew. She went to a little drawer
and took out a string of beads which had lain there unused since she
had been made to believe that the Virgin and the saints would not
permit her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn. She took out the beads--
but she did not use them. She passed no berries through her fingers to
check the number of prayers said, for she found herself unable to say
any prayer at all. If he would come back to her, and ask her pardon--
ask it in truth at her feet--she would still forgive him, regardless
of the Virgin and the saints.
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