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"If she'll consent, I'll take her to Europe," mused Carl Walraven. "It will be delightful to go over the old places with so fresh a companion as my sparkling little Cricket. But I'm not sure that she'll go she's a great deal to fond of young Ingelow. Well, he's a fine fellow, and I've no objection." Mr. Walraven's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Sardonyx.
Walraven aided and abetted him to-night." "How can I?" "Simply enough. Accuse him and her before us all. There will be no one present you can not trust. Your guardian, Sir Roger, and myself know already. Sardonyx is Mr. Walraven's lawyer, and silence is a lawyer's forte." "Well?" breathlessly. "Accuse him threaten him. Tell him you know his whole fraud from first to last. Accuse her!
That was the story of the prodigal son. Mrs. Walraven asked no questions. She was a wise old woman; she took her son and was thankful. It had happened late in October, this sudden arrival, and now, late in November, the fatted calf was killed, and Mrs. Walraven's dear five hundred friends bidden to the feast. And they came.
"Blanche, be civil! Most assuredly I will marry her if she will marry me." "Then you will repent it all the days of your life." "Probably. I think I heard Miss Dane making a similar remark to your affianced about you." "The impertinent little wretch! Let her wait until I am Mr. Walraven's wife!" "Vague and terrible! When is it to be?" "The wedding? Next month." "Poor Walraven!
I don't care that" the lady snapped her jeweled fingers somewhat vulgarly "if I never see her again. It is as well to tell you the truth, my dear. One should have no secrets from one's husband, they say." She laughed lightly, and drew her opera-cloak up over her superb bare shoulders. Mr. Walraven's darkest scowl did not intimidate her in the least.
After this hour I never want to look upon your wicked white face again." Blanche Walraven's spirit rose with the insult. She flung down the clothes and sat erect in bed, her black eyes flashing. "Be it so! You never loved me less than I did you! You can not hate me more than I hate you! But, for all that, I won't go!" "You shall go and that within this week!" "I tell you I won't! I dare you!
"Yes you would like to know?" "More than anything else in the wide world." "And have you no idea no suspicion?" Mollie hesitated. "I have sometimes thought," reddening painfully, "that I might be Mr. Walraven's daughter." "Ah!" said Miriam, her eyes lighting; "and he thinks so, too!" "Miriam!" "Yes," said Miriam, exultingly, "he thinks so he believes so, and so does his wife.
But Mollie is worth the risk worth ten thousand risks. If it were to do over again, I would do it. By Heaven, Blanche! you should have seen her as she stood there brandishing that dagger aloft and defying me! I never saw anything so transcendently beautiful!" Mrs. Walraven's scornful upper lip curled. "Lady Macbeth four feet high eh? 'Give me the daggers! I always knew she was a vixen.
Every nerve in Carl Walraven's body thrilled as he looked at her. How lovely that face! How sweet that voice, that laugh! How eminently well she acted! He had seen women of whom the world raved play that very part; but he had never, no, never seen it better played than he saw it to-night.
Walraven's black eyes snapped; but they were at the dining-room door, and she swept in as your tall, stately women in trailing silks do sweep, bowing to the baronet, and taking her place, and, of course, the subject of the interesting captive down in Long Island was postponed indefinitely. Dr.
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