“Unless?” he said, softly. “Unless an accident happens. And accidents do happen—alas!—so often in this unsatisfactory, disappointing world.”
She watched his face eagerly, with a faint glimmer of hope on her face, which was still pale and eloquent of the fierce jealousy which racked and tore her.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, half-angrily, half-pleadingly.
He smiled unctuously.
“‘’Twixt the cup and the lip.’ The old, old adage, dear Lady Grace. These young people, in the full flush of their mutual passion——”
She bit her lip till two red spots showed where the white, even teeth had pressed.
“Doubtless think that their path to happiness is quite plain and smooth. Alas! I fear they will find that the road is stony and difficult. It is a pity, a thousand pities! It is so sweet to see two hearts that beat as one——”
“Cease!” she said, as if she could endure his soft, mocking voice no longer. “What will you do? What can you do? He is mad and—and headstrong. How can you prevent——” She stopped suddenly, and, stooping, picked up something from the grass.
“Ah!” he said. “Treasure-trove! What is it? A broken sixpence? No! A ring—the ring!”
She held it almost at arm’s length, as if it were some noxious reptile, then with a gesture of scorn and hate, she raised her hand as if to throw the ring from her; but instantly he seized her arm, and his soft, fat hand slid down until it had reached and secured the ring.