"I am glad you did," she responded; "I have long desired to meet her."
They then proceeded to discuss the important event of the evening, and Mrs. Goddard assured him that their plot was progressing admirably. Still, she manifested a twinge of remorse as she thought of the despicable trick she had devised against the fair girl whom her brother was so eager to possess.
"Anna, you must not fail me now!" he exclaimed, "or I will never forgive you! The girl must be mine, or—"
"Hush!" she interposed, holding up her finger to check him. "Did some one knock?"
"I heard nothing."
"Wait, I will see," she said, and cautiously opened the door. No one was there.
"It was only a false alarm," she murmured, glancing down the hall; then she started, as if stung, as she caught sight of two figures in the room diagonally opposite hers.
Her face grew ghastly, but her eyes blazed with a tiger-like ferocity.
She closed the door noiselessly, then with stealthy, cat-like movements, she stole toward the French door, leading out upon the veranda, throwing a long mantle over her light dress and bare shoulders. Then she passed out, and crept along the veranda toward a window of the room where her husband and Edith were talking.
She could see them distinctly through the slats of the blinds, which were movable—could see the man bending toward the graceful girl, whom she had never seen so beautiful as now, his face eager, a wistful light burning in his eyes, while his lips moved rapidly with the tale that he was pouring into her ears.