Major Howard was silent.
"I do not wish to hasten this marriage," resumed the colonel, "because you expressed a desire, several months ago, that it should be delayed till a change occurred in your wife's situation (a strange emphasis on the word wife); but were it consummated, your family could occupy one-half of my mansion with no expense to me till Rufus should rebuild the one you have recently lost by fire."
Major Howard's face suddenly brightened. The colonel saw he had made a hit, and followed up his advantage so adroitly that e'er the twain parted, the father had consented that the marriage between his daughter and the colonel's son should take place within four weeks. He sought his daughter and communicated the intelligence. Florence received it in silence. She felt they were without a home in the wide world, and at the mercy of the man under whose roof they were sheltered. A strange horror was seizing upon her soul and bowing her spirits to the earth. There were many looks and glances around her she could not understand; but they seemed possessed of some dark and hidden meaning. Hannah Doliver's glee knew no bounds. She followed Rufus from morning till night, and appeared uneasy if he was a moment beyond her sight. The young man returned her fondness with hatred and contempt. Edith, with her pale, wan face and sunken eyes, looked the mere shadow of her former self. During her long illness, her beautiful head had been shorn of its ripply wealth of auburn curls, and, as she lay languidly on the soft cushions of her luxuriant couch, few would have recognized in that wasted form the once radiant Edith Malcome. She had a feverishness and uncertainty of temper common to long-confined invalids. Florence could find little companionship in her society; besides, she was too weak to endure the excitement of laughter and conversation.
Rufus sought his affianced bride at every opportunity; and the only place where she could rest secure from his interruptions was the apartment of her mother, where he never ventured to intrude, being possessed of a strange fear and dread of sick people. He never visited Edith, unless compelled to do so by his father.
Florence was one day sitting in the deep recess of one of the drawing-room windows, with the massy folds of purple damask drooped before her, occupied in the perusal of a book of poems, when a succession of low, murmuring sounds near by, disturbed her, and listening a moment she heard Col. Malcome say, in a smothered tone, "There's no fear of detection; all moves on bravely, and we shall have a blooming young bride here in a few weeks."
Then there was a low, chuckling laugh, which Florence recognized as Hannah Doliver's. After a while the woman spoke in a stifled voice, "Don't you want to see her?" she said. "I should think you would." There was a slight malice in her tone, which appeared to irritate him somewhat.
"I can wait very well till the ceremony is performed," he answered at length. "Of course, she will appear at the marriage of her daughter." A strange emphasis on the last word.
"But come," he added directly, "we must not linger here. Some of the family may observe us."
Thus speaking, they passed out of the apartment, relieving Florence of the fear with which she had been shaking during their whole conversation lest they should discover her retreat in the window.
When they were gone, she clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a low, but fervent tone, "Will no arm save me from the power into which I have fallen?"