Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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“What I say,” she replied. “Why did you bring me here? I had forgotten.”

She covered her face with her trembling hands; she shook from head to foot.

“My darling, what in the world is the matter?” asked Rowton in astonishment.

“I am oppressed by the strangest sensation,” replied the bride. “It will pass. Oh, yes, it will pass. Don’t speak to me for a minute.”

She left her bridegroom’s side and went over to the far end of the room. Sitting almost with her back to him, she gazed gloomily at the glowing hearth, where a pile of logs burned with cheerful blaze.

Rowton watched her with knitted brow and in some perplexity.

She felt that he was watching her. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and faced him.

“You wonder at me?” she said.

“I do,” he answered.

“The thing is past,” she said with a smile. “But I must tell you; I cannot keep a secret from you on our wedding night. For a moment, Adrian, I—I who love you with passion, with devotion, with a love which seems to me to pass the love of any ordinary woman, I felt that I hated you—for a moment you became intolerable to me; I shrank from your face—you reminded me in some incomprehensible way of Anthony.”