"Those scars, Miriam!" he went on, as if unobservant of my manner, yet with the old sarcastic gleam in his eyes, in the most audacious way, "have nearly disappeared, have they not? I think I understood so from Dr. Pemberton. Let me see that on your arm, my dear," and he extended his hand to grasp it.
"They are indelible, Mr. Bainrothe," I replied, folding my arms tightly above my heart, "as are some other impressions; never allude to them again, I request you. It offends me." And I left him, coldly and abruptly.
I give this little scene only as a specimen of his occasional behavior at this period, and of the humiliation to which his presence so often subjected me. But matters had not yet culminated.
CHAPTER VII.
Evelyn's fortune and Mabel's were, like much of my own, invested in the Bank of Pennsylvania, and deemed secure in that gigantic bubble. At twenty-three Evelyn, of course, consulted no one as to the disposition of her income, which she spent freely and magnificently on herself alone. Her jewels, silks, laces, were of the finest quality and fabric; she drove a peerless little equipage, had her own ponies and tiger and maid; travelled frequently, entertained splendidly, though this last, it must be confessed, was not at her expense, if redounding to her credit.
To her my father had decreed the first position in his household until my marriage (with her sanction) or majority should occur, and she kept it bravely. She possessed a leading spirit, and loved to rule whether by right or sufferance. Lovers she had in plenty; suitors, such as they were, manifold; yet she preferred so far her single estate to aught that could be or had been offered. I began to think that her constancy deserved to be rewarded, and to withdraw on such score the objection I had felt so strong in the outset against her union with Claude Bainrothe.
He had been already more than a year in Copenhagen when I discovered how it was between them, or rather thought I had done so, from seeing one night when she came into my room in her night-dress, which was accidentally parted at the bosom, the betrothal-ring, so peculiar as not readily to be mistaken, which Claude Bainrothe had once given to me, suspended from the button of her chemisette by a small gold chain, so as to lie constantly against her heart. How her pride had ever stooped to receive and wear the pledge originally given to another it was difficult for me to conceive, and little less bitter, I confess, at first to know. I thought all care was over as to Claude Bainrothe and his affairs, but a qualm of anguish surged through my whole being, the dying throe, I well believe, of trust and affection, when I beheld this carefully-guarded token.
As Evelyn raised her hand to fasten her night-robe, through the accidental opening of which I had caught sight of my repudiated treasure, I noticed on one of her slender fingers, from which all other incumbrances in the way of rings had been removed for the night, a circlet of plain gold such as is generally used for the symbol of the marriage-rite, an engagement-ring, I then supposed it.