Mrs. Howard put her hand on the waving tresses of red-gold hair, and told Fair impatiently that she was acting like a baby, and that it was imperative that she should be married at once, for if anything happened to Bayard before they were married she would never have any of his money.
“And you must not forget that if I were to die you would be friendless and penniless,” she said warningly; but it seemed to her that there was no reason left in the girl’s dazed head. She only flung her white hands over her head, and answered despairingly:
“When my mother died, her last words were that there was nothing but misery and despair in store for her darling. Oh, it was true—quite true. She spoke with the tongue of a prophet.”
Then, taking no notice of Mrs. Howard, she put out her hand and touched her lover’s brow, exclaiming wildly:
“Oh, my love—my lost love—I wish that fatal shot had gone at once through both our hearts and killed us, that we might at least have rested in the same grave!”
“Calm yourself, my darling girl, for I am not going to die. I shall get well, for your sweet sake,” murmured her lover soothingly, full of pity for her half-distracted state; but again she flung up her hands, and moaned frantically:
“Oh, if I could die—if I could die!” and for several moments she raved so wildly that they began to believe she was out of her senses.
Feeling himself growing weak under the excitement of her looks and words, Bayard Lorraine at last advised Mrs. Howard to take Fair back to her room.
“She is in no mood for the marriage now, and I think she needs a physician’s care. We will not torment her any longer. At least, I can make my will and leave my fortune to her,” he said sadly.
“Come dear,” Mrs. Howard said pityingly. “You are ill with nervous excitement; I will take you to your room.”