"More than vexed, he washes his hands of me!"
"Oh, that's only his way, when he is angry. He will get over it all right. Meanwhile, we are always your friends, bear this in mind, and, Geoffrey," smiling through her tears, "though I hate and fear the thought of your going, and would do all in my power to hold you back, yet I don't blame you, and whatever happens, you return to us," and she kissed him with warm affection.
After these farewell visits, the parting guest hurried away to the office, in order to settle his bill—only a half day,—and as he was gathering up change, a light hand was laid on his arm, and looking round, he beheld Mrs. Villars, who for some reason appeared to be strangely unlike herself; she seemed excited, flurried,—and if he dared to use the word, dishevelled!
"I must speak to you," she began breathlessly. "Come into the sitting-room for a moment," and as they entered, she turned round abruptly, and faced him. "Oh, Geoffrey, what is this I hear? Is it true, that you are leaving us?" she asked, with tragedy in her voice.
"Yes, I'm bound to go," he answered decisively.
"Don't, don't!" she pleaded, "Geoffrey, I implore you to think twice, before hurling yourself to ruin. Your cousin has told me, he is simply frantic."
"But I'm ruined already, if it comes to that, as far as money is concerned, and I intend to see this thing through."
"It means beggary, and madness—it does, it does," she reiterated, with passion. "I ask you, I beg of you, I beseech of you, to stay—stay for my sake," and she flung her arms round his neck, and gazed into his face, with two lovely, liquid, irresistible eyes.
Lena Villars was on her mettle, she was using the most effective and deadly weapon in her armoury. Should she suffer this young man to escape, to go headlong his own way, her prestige in her inner consciousness would be for ever dimmed!
Such eyes as hers, were powerful persuaders. Mallender was young, with hot blood racing through his veins; he caught his breath sharply, and was about to yield. The perfume of the syren's hair, her close and delicious proximity, intoxicated his senses. At this critical instant, he beheld a face, and two hands numbering twelve fingers pressed against the window, making urgent signs. With a firm but gentle movement he put the sorceress quietly aside, caught up his cap, and ran out of the hotel.