"She stayed away from the ball to meet that scoundrel!" he muttered under his breath.
With hesitating steps, little dreaming of what the end of her adventure would be, Ida hurried on to her doom.
The wind sighed a mournful requiem in the trees, the songs of the birds were hushed, and the sweet murmur of the brook seemed to end in a sob as it rushed onward to the sea.
The night was warm, but a great shiver crept over Ida as she turned out of the path and hurried along through the garden by a short cut to the place where she knew Royal Ainsley was impatiently waiting for her.
[CHAPTER LVII.]
Royal Ainsley was not a man to be trusted when under the influence of drink. As the minutes went by, and Ida did not come, he was beside himself with rage.
"What does she mean by keeping me waiting in this manner?" he roared. "By the Lord Harry, I'll make her pay for this!"
Then, like Eugene Mallard, who was watching but a few feet from him, he saw the light go out in Ida's room.