“I will do what you wish,” he answered, just in time, for Cora entered at that moment, visibly nervous, but trying hard to conceal the signs of a terrible agitation.
She glanced suspiciously from one to the other, crying:
“Aunt Verna, how excited you look. I fear you are much worse!”
“No, Cora, I feel strangely better, as if Frank’s visit had done me much good.”
“It has done me much good, too—made me glad and happy! Oh, aunt, I hope you will get well in time for our wedding next week,” cried Cora, leaning a trembling hand on her betrothed’s shoulder.
“Next week!” he cried, with a start of dismay that Cora affected to misunderstand.
“Yes, I have arranged to have it next week, for what is the use of any further delay? We have waited long enough, you and I, for our happiness, have we not, dear? So everything is ready for our wedding and flitting next week. And because Aunt Verna is sick it shall be the quietest sort of a ceremony—no wedding breakfast, nor excitement—just a few friends for witnesses, and the marriage in my traveling gown—then the bridal tour. I have even planned that. We will go to California. Shall you not like that, dear?”
It made her furious that he grew so deadly pale, that he stammered, when he tried to answer. She guessed with a sick heart that he would get out of it all if he could.
“All for the sake of that hateful girl—that Jessie Lyndon, number two, who has again come between me and happiness!” she thought bitterly.
She linked her hands in his arm and drew him away.