In her dumb agony the creature failed to look up or even to distinguish the difference in the step of Colonel Carlyle.
"You saw him, Lucy?" she asked, without lifting her head.
There was no reply.
She looked up in surprise at the girl's silence and saw Colonel Carlyle standing in the center of the room regarding her fixedly.
Bonnibel had seen him jealous and enraged before, but she had never seen him look as he did then.
The veins stood on his forehead like thick, knotted cords. His face was purple with excitement, his eyes glared like those of a wild animal, his hands were clenched. It seemed as though he only restrained himself by a powerful effort of will from springing upon and rending her to pieces.
Thus convulsed and speechless he stood gazing down upon her.
"Oh, Colonel Carlyle, you are ill," she exclaimed, regarding him in terror. "Shall I not ring for assistance?"
He did not answer, but continued to gaze upon her in the same stony silence.
Fearing that he was suddenly seized with some kind of a fit, she sprang up and shook him violently by the arm.