Again she looked at him with her fearless eyes and answered:
“Yes, I am engaged to another man.”
“To Alan Vernon?”
She nodded.
“When did that happen? Some years ago?”
“No, this morning.”
“Great Heavens!” he muttered in a hoarse voice turning his head away, “this morning. Then last night it might not have been too late, and last night I should have spoken to you, I had arranged it all. Yes, if it had not been for the story of that accursed fetish and your uncle’s illness, I should have spoken to you, and perhaps succeeded.”
“I think not,” she said.
He turned upon her and notwithstanding the tears in his eyes they burned like fire.
“You think—you think,” he gasped, “but I know. Of course after this morning it was impossible. But, Barbara, I say that I will win you yet. I have never failed in any object that I set before myself, and do not suppose that I shall fail in this. Although in a way I liked and respected him, I have always felt that Vernon was my enemy, one destined to bring grief and loss upon me, even if he did not intend to do so. Now I understand why, and he shall learn that I am stronger than he. God help him! I say.”