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Updated: September 29, 2025
Then followed half an hour of bliss for the lovers such as the poets tell of in their verses of a glimpse of Paradise. Although they exchanged a hundred vows of eternal affection, Lester Armstrong hesitated to speak of marriage yet. Faynie was young only eighteen. There was plenty of time. And to tell the truth, he dared not face the possibilities of it just yet.
"I think I can guess what it is," replied Faynie, stroking the girl's brown curls, "Your lover has declared his love for you and asked you to be his wife. Is it not so?" "You know it could be nothing else which could make me so very, very happy," laughed Claire, her cheeks reddening. "And you have answered yes?" asked Faynie. "Of course I said yes," responded Claire.
"I will tell her in the morning," she promised herself, little dreaming what was to transpire ere the morrow dawned. When Faynie awoke to consciousness she found the housekeeper bending over her. Hours had passed and Claire had long since retired to her room.
The sight which met her gaze fairly rooted her to the spot. For one brief instant of time it seemed to Faynie as though her breath was leaving her body. She stood paralyzed, unable to stir hand or foot, if her very life had depended upon it.
He had expected that beautiful Faynie Fairfax would turn from him in anger and dismay, but to his intense surprise, she burst into a flood of tears, even though she looked at him with smiling lips, April sunshine and showers commingled, confessing with all a young girl's pretty, hesitating shyness that she loved him, even as he loved her, with all her heart.
But in less time than it takes to tell it, a strong arm thrust him aside, and a tall form sprang between him and Faynie, while a voice that struck terror to his very soul cried out: "You have come to the end of your rope, Clinton Kendale. You have lost the game, while it was almost in your grasp!" "Great Heaven, is it you, Lester Armstrong!" cried the guilty villain, fairly quivering with terror.
Turning out the gas in the corridor, Faynie glided forward like a shadow, and, reaching the library, noiselessly pushed open the door, which he had left slightly ajar. "What was he doing here?" she wondered vaguely, her eyes blazing with fierce indignation as she stood there considering what her next action should be. He decided, the question by exclaiming: "Ha!
"And when is the wedding to take place?" queried Faynie, hoping with all her heart that this lover of whom the girl was so desperately fond loved Claire for herself not for the wealth she had fallen heir to. Claire raised her bright, blushing face shyly, the dimples coming and going, making her rather plain little face almost beautiful at that moment.
During all the long hours of that never-to-be-forgotten night Lester Armstrong lay there on his pallet of straw praying for strength to foil the villain for Heaven to direct him what to do. For the Marsh millions he cared nothing; but his heart was wrung with anguish when he trusted himself to think of Faynie.
Clinton Kendale would step into his place, personating himself so cleverly that the great world, under whose very eyes the terrible tragedy had taken place, would never know the difference. Even Faynie would not know how she had been tricked and cheated, and the last thought almost drove him to the point of frenzy, nearly succeeding in turning his tortured brain.
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