The two wicked women looked at each other blankly.
"I did not expect her to take it that way," said Mrs. Arnold.
"Nor I," returned Felise. "I looked for a fainting spell, or some kind of a tragic scene at least."
"Perhaps she does not care much after all," suggested Mrs. Arnold. "She is young, and the young are proverbially fickle. She may have ceased to love him."
"No, she has not. I am confident of that, mother. Her face looked dreadful when she went out. She is too proud to let us see how she is wounded—that is all. She turned as white as a dead woman while she was reading, and there was a hunted, desperate look in her eyes. Depend upon it she is terribly stricken."
"Do you think she will consent to marry Colonel Carlyle now, Felise?"
"I rather think she will after the awful alternative you placed before her."
"Did you hear our conversation, my dear?"
"Every word of it, mother. I must say you sustained your part splendidly. I feared you would not display sufficient firmness, but you came off with flying colors."
Mrs. Arnold smiled. She was well-pleased at her daughter's praise, for though her life was devoted to the service of Felise, this scheming girl seldom gave her a word or smile of commendation. She answered quickly: