“Oh, Robbie! Robbie!” she exclaimed, as the extent of her shattered hopes rushed over her.
With unsteady steps she walked to a chair, upon which she sat, with clasped hands and a stony heart, waiting for the fatal summons.
It came before she was aware of it.
A curtain noiselessly swung aside, and Ralph Moulton entered.
He stopped spell-bound at sight of the vision before him, and the cloud that had hung on his brow ever since he had parted from little black-eyed Enid Chichester vanished in the presence of his elegant bride-elect.
She did not move, for she had not heard nor seen him enter.
He passed swiftly to her side, bent upon one knee, and taking her icy hand, pressed a passionate kiss upon it.
Then she started as if an asp had stung her, and spurned him from her with loathing. Rising, she stood haughtily erect, and fixed her flashing eyes full upon him.
He arose also, not in the least disturbed at his reception, and bowing low before her, said in tones of earnest admiration:
“My bride, my queen, I am overwhelmed with so much loveliness, and my heart exults with pride over your exquisite beauty.”