“You led me on, encouraged me to love you, and hope for a return!” he cried sullenly.
“Nonsense! You knew I was engaged to Frank all the time!” she cried.
“Yet you pretend indifference to him, refused to marry him on what might have been his deathbed, and, besides, I had heard it whispered that you were so angry on your wedding day you had vowed vengeance on your recreant bridegroom. Is not all this true, Cora?”
“I deny your right to question me. I shall marry Frank when he gets well,” she cried, with her most imperious air.
“My God, then you were only coquetting with me to pass the time—is it true?”
“I was kind to you because you were Frank’s friend—that is all—and you are very wicked to try to steal me from him,” she cried defiantly.
“You were playing with fire,” he muttered, and turned and went away with a strange smile glooming his dark, strong face.
To-day he wore a careless smile, and did not flinch when she told him so triumphantly that she had just named the wedding day again.
“Is it so, indeed? Then you will soon be lost to me forever!” he cried lightly, adding: “I must steal every hour I can from my fortunate rival until the fatal day. The crust of the snow is hard, and my sleigh is at the door. Will you come with me for a ride?”
“Yes, I will go,” she answered kindly.