“Forgive me for disobeying you, sweet one, but I should be desolate without your company. Come Violet, one kiss, and let us get reconciled to each other.”
He advanced a step, but her outstretched white hands waved him back.
“No nearer, as you value your life!” she cried, wildly.
He halted in consternation.
“What do you mean, Violet? Have you a hidden dagger about you?” he demanded.
“No, I have no weapon to defend myself, Harold Castello, and yet I solemnly swear that your life shall pay the forfeit if you force your love upon me. Do not stare, for I will find a way to kill you unless you leave me. I am desperate, maddened. I am your prisoner, but I shall never be more to you than I am now! So go and leave me to my misery!” she answered, in such a voice and with such a face, that he deemed it politic to obey, momentarily awed by the contact with a desperate woman at bay.
CHAPTER XXVII.
“THAT BEAUTIFUL FORM WAS MADE TO BE DRAPED IN RICH ATTIRE!”
As the door closed on Harold Castello’s form, Violet flung herself on the couch with a choking sob.
“Oh, Heaven, how wicked I feel! There is murder in my heart!”
The wrongs she had suffered had indeed almost maddened gentle Violet.