"Mother, Bonnibel has refused Colonel Carlyle."

Mrs. Arnold looked up from the sofa where she lay reading a novel by the gas-light with a start of surprise. Felise had come into the room as quietly as a spirit in her white dressing-gown.

"Mercy, Felise, how you startled me!" she exclaimed. "I had just got to such an exciting part where the heroine was just about to be murdered by her jealous rival when in you came with your long hair and trailing white wrapper, like Lady Macbeth walking in her sleep. I almost expected to hear you exclaim:

"'Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand!'"

"You are quite dramatic to-night, mother—your novel must be an exciting one," said Felise, with a slight sneer. She came forward and sat down in a large easy-chair opposite her mother. She looked pale, and her eyes burned with repressed excitement.

"It is," said Mrs. Arnold, "the most thrilling book I have read lately. But what were you saying when you came in and frightened me so?"

"I said that Bonnibel had refused Colonel Carlyle," repeated Felise, distinctly.

Mrs. Arnold sat up with her fingers between the pages of her book, whose interesting perusal she felt loth to stop. She said, half stupidly:

"Oh, she has, has she? Well, it had to come to that, sooner or later, you know, my love."

"Indeed?" answered Felise, shortly.

"Well, you know we have been expecting it some time, Felise, ever since Colonel Carlyle lost his heart about her. I must say his conduct to you has not been that of a gentleman, my dear."

"I quite agree with you," said Felise dryly.

She was very quiet, but her small hands were tightly clenched. She seemed "to hold passion in a leash" by a strong effort of will.

"But how did you find it out?" inquired her mother, thinking that Felise was taking it quite calmly, after all.

"As I find out most things—by keeping my eyes and ears open!" retorted her daughter, tartly.

[Pg 48]

"When did it happen?"

"This afternoon, while you were out calling on the Trevertons."

"Was the old fool much cut up about it?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, inelegantly.

"He would not take no for an answer," said Felise. "He wanted her to take time to think of all the advantages he offered her, and he is coming in a week to hear her decision."

"The silly old dotard!" ejaculated her mother. "Well, all he can get by his persistence is a second refusal."

Felise Herbert straightened herself in her chair, and looked at her mother with a strange smile on her face.

"I do not intend that he shall get a second refusal!" she said, in a low voice that was very firm and incisive.

Mrs. Arnold stared at her daughter in blank surprise and incredulity.

"Why, Felise, what can you mean?" she inquired.

"I mean that Bonnibel Vere shall marry Colonel Carlyle!" her daughter answered, in the same low, determined voice.

"Why, my dear, you know it cannot be when she already has a husband! Besides, I did not know that you wanted them to marry. I thought—I thought—" said Mrs. Arnold, stopping short because surprise had overpowered her.

She looked at the white figure sitting so quietly there in the arm-chair, with some apprehension. Had Felise's disappointment impaired her reason?

"You need not look at me so strangely, mother," said Felise. "I assure you I am not mad, as your eyes imply. I am as sane as you are; but I have said that Bonnibel Vere shall marry my recreant lover, and I mean to keep my word. She has stolen him from me, and now she shall marry him and get out of my way! Or perhaps you would prefer to keep her here to spoil the next eligible chance I get," said Felise, lo............