"Mrs. Ernscliffe, if you please," she said, drawing her graceful form erect with a defiant dignity.
"Mrs. Ernscliffe, then, if it pleases you better," he answered, mockingly. "Though why you care for the name I do not know. You do not love the man."
"I do love him," she answered, firmly, her fair head slightly drooped, and a burning blush crimsoning her cheeks.
"Since when?" he queried, sneeringly. "You did not love him when he asked you to marry him. I heard you tell him so."
"You heard me!" she exclaimed, in surprise.
"Yes, I was a witness to that moonlight wooing. I have seldom lost sight of you since you returned to your father's house, and resumed the role of innocent maidenhood."
"A spy!" she said, scornfully.
"Yes, if you put it so," he answered, coolly. "We need not be particular about terms."
She looked at him as if he were something wonderful. The effrontery of his wickedness almost paralyzed her. She clasped her hands and lifted her blue eyes.
"Oh, just Heaven," she said, "why does thy vengeance tarry in smiting this monster?"