ButtheinexorableTheobaldwasnottobeputoffwithsuchabsurdexcuses。Hewasmasternow。HadnotChristinalessthantwohoursagopromisedsolemnlytohonourandobeyhim，andwassheturningrestiveoversuchatrifleasthis？Thelovingsmiledepartedfromhisface，andwassucceededbyascowlwhichthatoldTurk，hisfather，mighthaveenvied。“Stuffandnonsense，mydearestChristina。”heexclaimedmildly，andstampedhisfootuponthefloorofthecarriage。“Itisawife’sdutytoorderherhusband’sdinner；youaremywife，andIshallexpectyoutoordermine。”ForTheobaldwasnothingifhewasnotlogical。
Thebridebegantocry，andsaidhewasunkind；whereonhesaidnothing，butrevolvedunutterablethingsinhisheart。Wasthis，then，theendofhissixyearsofunflaggingdevotion？WasitforthisthatwhenChristinahadofferedtolethimoff，hehadstucktohisengagement？Wasthistheoutcomeofhertalksaboutdutyandspiritualmindedness——thatnowupontheverydayofhermarriagesheshouldfailtoseethatthefirststepinobediencetoGodlayinobediencetohimself？HewoulddrivebacktoCrampsford；hewouldcomplaintoMrandMrsAllaby；hedidn’tmeantohavemarriedChristina；hehadn’tmarriedher；itwasallahideousdream；hewould——Butavoicekeptringinginhisearswhichsaid：“YOU
CAN’T，CAN’T，CAN’T。”
“CAN’TI？”screamedtheunhappycreaturetohimself。
“No。”saidtheremorselessvoice，“YOUCAN’T。YOUAREAMARRIED