Webster recovered from his fainting-fit, but he was weak and ill. It seemed extraordinary that the sight of a pictured face should have had such an influence upon him. He himself could give no explanation save that he had been overcome by a feeling of nausea. So, after an apology, he went at once to bed. The party broke up, and Ruth retired, wondering greatly at her lover's strange indisposition.
Half an-hour later she was seated before her bedroom fire in dressing-gown and slippers. Having dismissed her maid, she indulged herself in a reverie with which Neil Webster and her chances of obtaining her father's consent to her marriage with him were mainly concerned.
She was aroused by a knock at the door, and in reply to her invitation Mrs. Marshall entered the room. At the first glimpse of that iron face the girl remembered a slip she had made in addressing her lover by his Christian name.
"You are in love with that violinist," said the elder woman, sitting down and fixing her niece with a piercing gaze.
"How do you know that?" asked the girl, coolly. She had been half-prepared for the question in spite of Mrs. Marshall's abrupt entry. In fact, for that very reason she kept on her guard.
"Pshaw!" ejaculated Aunt Inez, with scorn. "Cannot one woman divine the feelings of another? Your eyes were never off the creature to-night."
"Mr. Webster is not a creature," interrupted the girl, angrily.
"Mr. Webster!" sneered the other. "Why not Neil? You called him so to-night."
"Yes," said Ruth, defiantly, throwing off her mask. "And I shall call him so again. You are right; I do love him. And he loves me."
"I thought as much. And the end of this mutual passion?"