We now enter upon a fearful study. It is that of a heart which, though young, is seared, withered, and depraved, and which can no longer throb for aught that is good or noble.
It is that of a mind which is strong to resolve, patient to wait, relentless to execute. It is that of a woman who possesses the face of an angel, and the furious passions of a demon.
Laura Stanbridge had once in her life become human. She had loved. She had loved the boy Alf Purvis with as intense and fiery a passion as an Eastern queen.
She had offered this man her love, which was as lurid as her rage; he had refused it, and in refusing it he had told her the terrible secret of her own life. By some means he had discovered the crimes of her girlhood—adultery, theft, murder. For this she hated him, and with no common hate—for this she determined to be avenged, and with no common vengeance.
Retiring into the depths of her black heart she pondered over various schemes for inflicting a terrible vengeance upon the man who taunted her, insulted her, and refused her love.
Little did Alf Purvis suppose that he had such a bitter, relentless enemy to deal with. He paid her but little attention, was away for days and even weeks at a time. She was too proud to condescend to inquire about his movements, and affected an air of indifference about all and everything concerning him.
They had been partners in crime—now they were working out their own ends separately and apart. Indeed it is surprising that the young pickpocket had not taken himself off altogether; only there was this to be said: with all his assumed bravado he stood in fear of Laura Stanbridge, who was more than a match for him as far as cunning and duplicity were concerned.
But a new actor is about to appear in this part of the drama—one, however, who is already well known to the reader.
One evening, when a grand concert was given at St. James’s Hall, Laura Stanbridge sallied forth, paid the price of admission, and entered the Hall. Every seat was occupied. She found out that she was a little too late to obtain a place—so she stood and listened to the music.
A young man who sat close to where she was standing rose from his seat, which he begged her to occupy. She was thickly veiled at this time, but her eyes gleamed through the veil.