“Be it so! Before this time to-morrow—and, by Heaven! I mean it—before this time to-morrow, you shall stand in the witness-box?”
“Vile spy! Anywhere but in your presence! Out of my sight! This instant, or I call my father!”
“You needn’t put yourself to the trouble. I’m not going to embarrass you any longer with my company—so disagreeable to you. I leave you to reflect. Perhaps before the trial comes on, you’ll see fit to change your mind. If so, I hope you’ll give notice of it—in time to stay the summons. Good night, Loo! I’ll sleep thinking of you.”
With these words of mockery upon his lips—almost as bitter to himself as to her who heard them—Calhoun strode out of the apartment, with an air less of triumph than of guilt.
Louise listened, until his footsteps died away in the distant corridor.
Then, as if the proud angry thoughts hitherto sustaining her had become suddenly relaxed, she sank into a chair; and, with both hands pressing upon her bosom, tried to still the dread throbbings that now, more than ever, distracted it.