“You despise my offering?” he exclaimed, bitterly, as he stooped to gather his scorned gift from the carpet, and restore them to the case.
“I despise it and you! How often must I reiterate that fact?” cried Violet, angrily.
“As often as you please, fair beauty, but it will make no difference in my determination to win you for my own,” he cried, with a certain defiance, enraged at her scorn.
She made no answer for a few moments, but she thought, with a happy thrill at her heart that in a few more hours she would be safe from his persecutions, the bride of her own beloved Cecil.
Strong in this hope, she said, presently:
“It is useless for you to press your suit with me. I fear and loathe you so deeply that I could never even tolerate your presence. The sooner you realize this the better. But I can assure you that it is not necessary to make me your wife to insure my silence on the past. Rest easy. My lips shall be sealed.”
With these words, she arose to leave the room.
He saw by her flashing eyes and compressed lips that it was quite useless to seek to detain her, and he stood in angry silence while she left the room, thinking:
“How superb she was in her anger! Her eyes glowed like stars, and her little red mouth was so charming in its disdain that I longed to kiss it. By Heaven, I love her more dearly than ever; and, when she is mine, I will tame her if it is in the power of mortal man to do it.”
He laughed aloud at thought of the clever plot that was to give her to his arms.