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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I told you once that I thought Miss Bolten was interested in him. Let me tell you now he is in love with me." "Eden, Eden " her father murmured, reprovingly. Into Usselex' face came an expression that a demon might have envied. For a second he fronted Maule, his hand clenched. Then the fingers loosened again.
Usselex was a frequent guest, and presently Eden discovered that her annoyance had disappeared. The people whom we admire at first sight are rarely capable of prolonging that admiration, and when circumstances bring us into contact with those that have seemed antipathetic, it not infrequently happens that the antipathy is lost. It was much this way with Eden.
Usselex moved from her, her hand still in his, and when their arms were fully outstretched, he turned and holding her to him he kissed her on either cheek. As he left the room Eden could have danced with delight. She ran to the piano and with one hand still gloved she struck out clear notes of joy. Presently, she too left the room, and prepared for dinner.
Then, turning to Eden, he added with the grace of a knight-errant, "Miss Menemon, allow me to present my congratulations." The old legends tell of disputants ossified by one glance of Jove's avenging stare; and when Maule made his melodramatic announcement, both Usselex and Eden stood transfixed and motionless with surprise. Of the little group Maule alone preserved any semblance of animation.
"What is it?" he asked. "No one rang." "A letter, sir," the man answered; "it was to be delivered to you." Usselex took the note and held it unexamined in his hand. Eden caught a glimpse of the superscription. The writing was her own. It was, she knew, the note which she had dispatched a half hour before. Meanwhile the servant had withdrawn.
She spoke hoarsely, in a voice unlike her own; her eyes were not in his, they were staring at something in his hand, and as she stared, she seemed to shrink. The muscles of her face were rigid. And Usselex, perplexed at the fixidity of her gaze, followed the direction which her eyes had taken and saw that they rested on the note which he still held, crumpled and forgotten.
She stepped back to elude him, but he caught her by the wrist. "Look at me," he continued. "It took fifty years to make my hair gray; one day has made it white." Eden succeeded in disengaging herself from his grasp, and she succeeded the more easily in that a servant unobserved by her, yet seen by Usselex, had entered the room. He loosed his hold at once and glanced at the man.
This is the last act, is it not?" "No, it is the prologue." The speech was as significant as her own. For a second he was silent, and bit his under lip. Then, as Jones had done before, he stood up. "I will come," he muttered in her ear, "but not on Saturday." "Good-night, Mr. Maule." "Good-night, Mrs. Usselex." With a circular salute to the other occupants, Maule left the box.
Usselex, conscious of the futility of pursuit, made no further effort. In his face was an anxiety which his fair tormentor did not see. Once he turned to Arnswald, and Arnswald gave him an answering glance, and once his lips moved, but whatever he may have intended to say the words must have stuck in his throat.
Besides, I do not care to listen." And thereat she made a movement as though to leave the room. But this Usselex prevented. He planted himself very firmly before her. His attitude was arrestive as an obelisk and uncircuitable as a labyrinth. Attention was his to command, and he claimed it with a gesture. "You shall not go," he said; "you shall hear me."
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