Farewell, thou hast trampled my love’s faith in the dust,
Thou hast torn from my bosom my faith and my trust;
But if thy life’s current with bliss it would swell,
I would pour out my own in this last fond farewell!
For an instant the lifeblood around John Dinsmore’s heart seemed to stand still, and his eyes fairly bulged from their sockets. No, it was no trick of his imagination, the slim, aristocratic hand of his rival, upon which he gazed so breathlessly, bore upon it a ring of curious device—a serpent’s body, and deeply imbedded in the flat head was a triangle of diamonds, in the center of which was a large diamond of rare brilliancy and beauty.
It was the identical ring his friends had described as being worn by the man whom they were at that moment hunting down to charge with a terrible crime.
Ere he could utter the words that arose to his lips, Raymond Challoner turned away from him, saying, with a haughty sneer:
“It is well you accept my challenge, John Dinsmore; I will meet you on the spot designated by you upon the beach, at exactly an hour from now. Until then adieu, most worthy champion of the fair sex, adieu!”
Challoner walked down the length of the broad piazza with the easy, graceful swagger peculiar to him, his friends about him, talking in subdued voices, yet anxiously and excitedly, over the event which had just transpired, and discussing in still lower whispers the probable outcome of the meeting, until they were lost alike to sight and sound.
Still John Dinsmore stood there where they had left him, like an image carved in stone, his eyes following the direction in which they had disappeared.