“An hour’s stroll brought me back to the window of the breakfast-room, which opened into the garden, and with the appetite of a tiger I was on the point of entering when my step was arrested by the sound of Mrs. Forrester’s voice, trembling with emotion, exclaiming, ‘Say it is not true!—for pity’s sake, say it is not true!’
“What could this mean? Being of a curious turn—my conduct may have been disgraceful, but hereafter I hope to stand excused for it; I moved into a position where I could see into the breakfast room without being seen, and hear all that was said.
“In an arm-chair by the table, her face buried in her hands, and her elbows resting on her knees, Mrs. Forrester was rocking herself to and fro in a way that showed her to be labouring under deep emotion.
“Close to her, in a strangely cool and insolent attitude stood the newcomer of last night, stroking his moustache with his gloved fingers.
“‘Upon my word, my dear Violet,’ he replied to her entreaty, with a measured slowness of speech that made me long to kick him, ‘I regret to say that it is true; Arthur Bernard is no more dead than I am. Like Norval’s father, he at the present moment feeds his flocks, not, however, upon the Grampian Hills, but in the neighbourhood of the great city of Otago.’
“‘But they told me he was dead,’ almost shrieked Mrs. Forrester; ‘the people who were with him when he died wrote to me.’
“‘Wrote to you!’ interrupted Murray with suspicious eagerness. ‘Have you got the letter?’
“‘No, I dared not keep it,’ she replied, ‘lest it should fall into my husband’s hands. Listen,’ she continued, hurriedly; ‘he knows nothing of the past—not even of my first marriage; I have kept it all, everything from him; for pity’s sake leave this place, where, save for the thought of that, I have been so happy, and let him remain in ignorance still.’
“‘Gently, Violet, gently!’ responded the man, unmoved in the least degree by her appeal. ‘Firstly, let me observe that, having promised myself a short stay in the country, I can hardly terminate it so abruptly as you desire me; in the next, as in addition to the agreeable change of air, I have met, quite unexpectedly, with an old companion for whom I have been searching ever so many years, and to whom I have a good deal to say, it would be quite impossible to do as you wish.’
“She made no response, only kept her face still buried in her hands as he went on. ‘At last, Violet Bernard, the game is in my hands. You laughed at my love, jeered at my protestations of devotion for you, curled up your proud lip at me, and dismissed me from your presence with contempt when I asked you to be my wife. I have not forgotten that, and never shall—never, never! But sooner or later you must hear me; mark, you must! Else——’ He paused an instant, and continued, ‘I won’t threaten, but remember Arthur Bernard lives!’