"Against my wishes, Bonnibel?"'
"I hope that you will not further oppose it, sir, on the ground of a mere caprice," she answered, flushing warmly. "It was the gift of a dear friend, who is dead, and I shall always wear it in remembrance."
"The gift of a former lover, perhaps," sneered Colonel Carlyle, half beside himself with jealousy.
"I suppose it cannot matter to you, Colonel Carlyle, who the giver may have been," exclaimed Bonnibel, offended at his overbearing tone, and flushing indignantly.
"Pardon me, but it does matter, Bonnibel. I dislike exceedingly to see my wife wearing the ring of one whom she loves better than her husband! Common regard for my feelings should induce you to lay it aside without forcing me to issue a command to that effect!"
His jealous pain or innate tyranny was fast getting the better of his prudence, or he would scarcely have taken such a tone with the young wife whose heart he so ardently longed to win. She sprang up impetuously and looked down at him with the fires of awakened resentment burning hotly upon her cheeks, looking beautiful with the glow and warmth of passion in the face that had been too cold and pale before. The same proud spirit that had forced her to defy her Uncle Francis that memorable night animated her now.
"I think you will hardly dare issue such a command to me, Colonel Carlyle. Remember that though I am your wife I am not your slave!"
How fair she looked in his eyes even as she indignantly defied his authority! But passion had made him blind to reason and justice. With a swift glance around to assure himself that no one was in sight, he caught her small hand and tried to wrench the ring from her finger by force.
"At least I will see whose hated name is written within the precious jewel!" he exclaimed.