He was wont to consult his own whims, but hitherto her supine acquiescence had been actuated less by a realization of helplessness than endorsement of his right of mastery, his superior and prevailing will. She thought of her submissiveness at the moment. How she had loved money! His money, of which she had enjoyed such share as he saw fit to dole forth. All the stiffness, the induration of long custom was at war with her Impulse as she cried: “But I want to go! What do you mean by staying here?” “But I want to stay,” he said imperiously, “and that is what I mean, and all I mean.” This was hardly comprehensive. He could scarcely control the rage that from the first of this ill-omened detention had possessed him upon the discovery of her lingering interest in the face of her old lover--a simple matter and explicable; without latent significance it would have been in the mind of any other man. Had it involved no sequence of subsequent events even he, perhaps, would have brought himself to let it pass unconsidered. He could not expect her to forget the fashion of Randal Ducie’s features, and the presence of the twin brother conjured up his face anew--his face which she had subtly distinguished from its counterpart. That revolted his pride. His wife must have no thought, no care, no memory, even, for aught save him! But her protest as to his ownership of Duciehurst, her revolt against owing any phase of her prosperity to the misfortunes of the Ducies, argued latent sensitiveness, an unprobed wound that he had not suspected, thoughts that he could not divine, memories that he did not share. Never, in all his experience of her, had her individuality, or even a question of his authority, been asserted save since that remembered face reappeared, affecting their matrimonial accord--he, imperious to command, from his plenitude of wealth and power, she eager to fawn and obey. “You don’t consider me at all. You don’t consult my wishes.” “I do better, my love. I consult our mutual interests.” “You treat me like a child, an idiot! You let me know nothing of our plans. Why should we not leave this battered old ruin with the rest of the passengers? How and when are we to leave? If, for nothing but to make a decent response to Aunt Dorothy’s questions, I ought to be told something. I hardly know how to face her.” “Well _I_ am not posing for that old darkey’s benefit,” he said, satirically smiling. There was a pause full of expectancy. “This battered old ruin!” he exclaimed. “It will be the finest mansion in Mississippi by the time I am through with it.” He cast his imperative eyes in approval over the great spaces of its open apartments. “And you, my dear, will be proud to be its chatelaine, and dispense its hospitalities.” “Never,” she cried impetuously--“an abasement of pride for me!” He changed color for a moment, and then held his ground. “The ante-bellum glories will be revived in a style that has not been attempted in this country.”