She did not observe the glow that once more mantled his cheek, and fired his eyes, until he exclaimed with unusual fervor,—
“Thank God! That fact is freighted with priceless comfort.”
Compassion and contempt seemed struggling for mastery, as she waved him from her, and answered, impatiently,—
“Think you that any other need hope to usurp my monarch’s place,—that one inferior dare expect to wield his sceptre over my heart? Pardon me,—
|
‘If there were not an eagle in the realm of birds, Must then the owl be king among the feathered herds?’ |
Some day a gentler spirit than mine will fill your home with music, and your heart with peace and sunshine; and, in that hour, thank honest Salome Owen for the blessings you owe to her candor. I must bid you good-night.”
She drew the scarf closer about her head and throat, and turned to leave the terrace.
“Will you not allow me to drive you to-morrow afternoon on the Marino? Do not refuse me this innocent and inexpressibly valued privilege. I will not be denied! Good-night, my—Heaven shield you, my worshipped one! Hush!—I will hear no refusal.”
He stooped, kissed the folds of the scarf that covered her head, and hurried down the steps of the terrace.