The young man watched her cunningly, but failed to understand her. The jealousy which made him so cruel had no similitude with her finer and keener feelings. He longed to see her break out in a tirade of abuse, or to have her question him broadly, as he wished to answer.
Ruth did nothing of the kind. In the tumult of feelings aroused by his words she remembered all that had been done that day, and, with sudden vividness of recollection, the promise of caution she had made to her husband.
Her husband! She pressed her hand against her bosom, where the wedding-ring lay hid, and a glorified expression came to her face as she turned it toward the firelight, absolutely forgetful that a hateful intruder shared it with her.
Richard Storms was baffled, and a little saddened by the strange beauty in the face his eyes were searching.
"Ruth!" he said at length. "Ruth!"
The girl started. His voice had dragged her out of a dream of heaven. She looked around vaguely on finding herself on earth again, and with him.
"Well," she said, impatiently, "what would you say to me?"
"Just this: when is it to be? I am really tired of waiting."
"Tired of waiting!" said Ruth, impatiently. "Waiting for what?"
"Why, for our wedding-day. What else?"