At that moment the portieres of the door again parted noiselessly, and Ethel stood like a picture framed between them.
"Arthur!" Ethel almost shrieked, and the clasped hands fell apart quickly, and the young pair sprang to their feet, each one crying confusedly:
"Ethel!"
At the same moment they moved toward her and Precious glided instantly from the room, believing the meeting of the betrothed lovers too sacred to be intruded on even by a sister.
Was there a silent, unacknowledged pain also at the bottom of her young, noble heart?
If there was she would not have owned it even to her own heart. She went to the library, took a new book and tried to lose herself in its fascinating pages.
Meanwhile Arthur, with a pang like death at his heart, went forward and took Ethel's hand while he stooped and kissed her crimson lips with a feigned warmth, inquiring gently:
"Are you surprised?"
"Very much so," she replied with a sarcastic intonation.
"At my early arrival, I mean?" he went on with a flush rising to his brow. Leading her gently to a seat he continued: