"But, my dear, there is no chance of Bonnibel marrying Colonel Carlyle even though she should be separated forever from her artist-husband, for she is a married woman anyhow. One hint of this to Colonel Carlyle would make your affair all right with him again!"
"It would not," answered Felise, passionately. "He is madly in love with her. Have I not seen it in these few weeks since she has been well enough to come down-stairs? Has not the old fool hung over her as dotingly as any boy-lover could do? Suppose I told him the truth? Do you think he would return to me? No, he would only hate me because I had shattered his brilliant air castle!"
"I am surprised that Bonnibel tolerates his attentions as she does," said Mrs. Arnold, stirring up the fire that was beginning to burn low in the grate.
"She does not suspect what the old fox is after; I will do her that much justice," said Felise, bitterly. "He is very cautious. He has a thousand tales of her father's prowess with which to pave his way and awaken her interest. She makes an idol of her wretched father who squandered every penny of her mother's fortune, and only redeemed himself by dying recklessly in some foolish charge on the battle-field!"
She resumed her walk up and down the floor which she had temporarily ceased during the last outburst. She was furiously angry.
Her eyes blazed luridly, her lips were curled back from her glittering teeth, her step seemed to spurn the floor. Her mother watched her uneasily.
"Felise, do you not fret yourself, my dear. I am persuaded that everything will come right soon. Suppose Colonel Carlyle is in love with Bonnibel. If he proposes to her she is compelled to refuse his offer. What more natural than that he should return to you then, and make you his wife. Hearts are often caught on the rebound, you know."
"Mother, hush! You talk like a simpleton as you are!" was the fierce retort.
Mrs. Arnold was stung to anger by the unprovoked insolence of her daughter. She rose and looked at her in dignified displeasure.