She lived, therefore, in constant dread of
his sudden vengeance, against which she could take no precaution,
for she had not even a conjecture as to what form it might
assume. From that hour she was never at peace in his presence,
and hardly out of it; from every possible _tete-a-tete_ with
him she fled as from a judgment.
Nor was it a small addition to her misery that she imagined Mary
cognizant of Mr. Redmain's opinion and intention with regard to
her, and holding the worst possible opinion of her. For, whatever
had passed first between the Count and Mr. Redmain, she did not
doubt Mary had heard, and was prepared to bring against her when
the determined moment should arrive. How much the Count might or
might not have said, she could not tell; but, seeing their common
enemy had permitted him to escape, she more than dreaded he had
sold her secret for his own impunity, and had laid upon her a
burden of lies as well.
CHAPTER XLVI.
REPARATION.
With all Mr. Redmain's faults, there was a certain love of
justice in the man; only, as is the case with most of us, it had
ten times the reference to the action of other people that it had
to his own: I mean, he made far greater demand for justice upon
other people than upon himself; and was much more indignant at
any shortcoming of theirs which crossed any desire or purpose of
his than ho was anxious in his own person to fulfill justice when
that fulfillment in its turn would cross any wish he cherished.
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