"Madam," answered Jacob, "do you know that the law gives this man power over you—a husband's power—if he chooses to claim it?" Jacob broke off, and clenched his huge hand in an agony of impatience, for his words had only brought the bright blood into that eloquent face. Through those drooping lashes he saw the downcast eyes kindle.
"She hopes it! she hopes it!" he said, in the bitterness of his thought; "but I will save her—with God's help I will save them both!"
When Ada Leicester looked up to address her servant, he had left the room.
Among other things, Jacob had been commissioned to procure a quantity of hot-house flowers; for the conservatories at Mrs. Gordon's villa were to be turned into perfect bowers. Besides, Ada was prodigal of flowers in every room of her dwelling, even when no company was expected. In order to procure enough for this grand gala evening, Jacob had resource to Mrs. Gray, who trafficked at times in everything that has birth in the soil.
Mrs. Gray was delighted with this commission, for it promised a rich windfall to her pretty favorite, Julia Warren. So, after the market closed that day, she went up to Dunlap's, and bargained for all the exotics his spacious greenhouse could produce. She informed Julia of her good luck, and returned home with a warmth about the heart worth half a dozen Thanksgiving suppers, bountiful as hers always were.
The next day Julia was going up town, with a basket loaded with exotics on her arm. It was late in the afternoon, for the blossoms had been left on the stalk to the latest hour, that no sweet breath of their perfume should be wasted before they reached the boudoir they were intended to embellish.
It was a sweet task that Julia had undertaken. With her love of flowers, it was a delicious luxury to gaze down upon her dewy burden, as she walked along, surrounded by a cloud of fragrance invisible as it was intoxicating. A life of privation had rendered her delicate organization keenly susceptible of this delicate enjoyment. It gratified the hunger of sensations almost ethereal. She loitered on her way, she touched the flowers with her hands, that, like the blossoms, were soon bathed in odor. Rich masses of heliotrope, the snowy cape jessamine, clusters of starry daphne, crimson and white roses, with many other blossoms strange as they were sweet, made every breath she drew a delight. A glow of exquisite satisfaction spread over her face, her dreamy eyes were never lifted from the blossoms, except when a corner was to be turned or an obstacle avoided.
"Where are you going, girl? Are those flowers for sale?"
Julia started and looked up. She was just then before a cottage house, laced with iron balconies and clouded with creeping vines, red with the crimson and gold of a late Indian summer. The garden in front was gorgeous with choice dahlias and other autumn flowers that had not yet felt the frost, and on the basin of a small marble fountain in the centre stood several large aquatic lilies, from which the falling water-drops rained with a constant and sleepy sound.
Julia did not see all this at once, for the glance that she cast around was too wild and startled. She clasped the basket of flowers closer to her side, and stood motionless. Some potent spell seemed upon her.