She had not at first spoken tauntingly. She thought she had meant only
to pronounce the truth. Then she perceived that the truth had cut deeper
than any taunt. She was as a naked, unarmed person driven up against a
wall, that finds suddenly a blade put into their hands. She held it, but
was perplexed how best to use it. She made a thrust,—
“All your talk is talk. It costs you nothing to ruin Linnet and me. It
cost you nothing to throw out Martin.—And Hannah,” she whispered, “and
Hannah!—What have you ever done that hurt yourself?”
From the tremor of the hand still clutching her wrist she discovered
that he was shuddering.
“You dare speak to me so?” he threatened.
“Hit me,—I can’t hit back,” she replied, upheld.
But he made no movement to injure her. His defeat was as complete as it
was sudden. Against his determination, which no appeal could have moved,
no bribe impressed, she had turned the sole effective weapon, his own
intrinsic weakness. There was no repair possible to a breach that had
started from the inside. She had struck down upon the rot within him and
the inner walls of his defences crumbled.