"Mr. Bainrothe, your mediation could effect nothing between me and
Claude; we understand one another perfectly, I assure you."
He was very much excited now, evidently; he relinquished my unwilling
hand coldly--on which he had, doubtless, missed the conspicuous ring,
significant of my engagement. His chameleon eyes seemed to emit sparks
of phosphorescent fire, as if every one of the dull-yellow sparks
therein had become suddenly ignited. I saw then, for the first time,
what his ire could be, and what reason I had to dread it.
"Have I been deceived in believing that you were attached to my son,
Miriam Monfort, and that you meant to keep faith with him?" he asked,
stiffly.
"You have not been deceived, Mr. Bainrothe, nor is it my wish to deceive
you now. Again I beg to refer you to him for all explanation; whatever
he alleges will be highly satisfactory to me."
"I will bet my life," he said, passionately, "that Evelyn Erle is at the
root of all this! That girl," he soliloquized, "who knew so well, from
the first, what our intentions were; to throw herself at his head in the
shameless way she did! A woman, without a woman's modesty."
"Beware, Mr. Bainrothe," I interrupted; "it is of my sister you speak. I
will not hear her slandered. Certainly, if propriety ever assumed female
form, it is in that of Evelyn Erie.
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