Her whole being was fused into a single deathless purpose—to take the life of the man who had killed her father. She would stop at no means to accomplish this end, and she would treat with scorn every convention of society which might interfere.
She slowly descended the winding stairs to-night before Steve’s enraptured gaze, dressed in pure white with full train. A single deep red rose was set in her black hair. Her arms were bare and their beauty was perfect—starting with the tiniest wrists and swelling into full voluptuous splendour above the dimpled elbows. She had a way of moving them when she walked which was modest yet subtle in sensuous suggestion.
Steve watched her spellbound. She placed her hand in his with a tender smile, the brown eyes watching the effects of her beauty with quiet triumph.
She allowed Steve to silently lead her to the old davenport under the stairs and take his seat by her side.
“You meant what your letter implied?” he asked eagerly.
“I did,” was the firm answer.
“It seemed too good to be true, dear, yet I felt sure that you would need me in this crisis of your life.”
“I do need you. I wonder if you will prove wanting when put to the test?”
“Try me!” he boldly challenged.
“You are sure that you love me with a love that will endure through good and evil, through life and death, through every test?”