“Oh, my Lord, my Lord! Can this be possible? You false to me, Odalite! You—you!” cried the youth, growing deathly pale, while great drops of cold sweat started from his forehead.
The girl strove to speak, but failed, and nodded with a choking sob.
“Who is the man?” demanded the youth, throwing himself again on the bench, since indeed he was scarcely able to stand.
“I—I—I—am engaged to Col. Anglesea,” gasped and faltered Odalite.
“‘Col. Anglesea!’ And who, in the foul fiend’s name, is Col. Anglesea? Satan fly away with him!”
“He is—is an—an officer in the—the East India Service.”
“How did you come to know him? May the——”
“Oh, don’t, don’t, Le! He was an old—old friend of my mother, and—we met him at Niagara.”
“I wish to Heaven he was at the foot of the falls!”
“So do I with all my heart!—oh, no, I don’t either!—I—I don’t know what I am talking about! My head is wild!” said Odalite, putting her hand to her forehead.