"Do you think that I will let you go?" she demanded, coldly, calmly. "Do you think that I shall let you leave this room?"
"You would not prevent me? What revenge have you to win?"
A crimson flame seemed to lick out from the brown eyes, and a dull red glow flashed into the oval cheeks. She stretched her arms across the door and bent her head toward her victim.
"What revenge have I to win?" she repeated, allowing all the hatred of her nature full expression. "What revenge have I to win? Listen and you shall hear. Before you came into our lives, he—Leith Pierrepont—loved me. But for you I should have been his wife. I loved him. Pouf! what do you know of love? What is your paltry, pitiful affection for him compared to what mine has been? But he turned from me to you—overlooked my love for your toleration—passed me by, forsook me, and I determined that he should pay for it with the last drop of blood in his body! I hated you both, and from the very first I have seen how it would be. Did you think I did not know of your love for him? Do you think I should have left you so long alone, had it not been to allow it to grow until you should suffer all that I had in store for you? Did you think I meant that you should rob me of everything that made life worth living, and then escape my vengeance? You do not know me!"
A sneering sound like a laugh left her lips—hard, cold—sending the blood tingling through Carlita's veins with stinging rapidity. She had drawn herself up, all the Mexican fire of her nature aroused and in action. The pleading anguish had all vanished, and only stern command remained.
"Stand aside!" she exclaimed in a voice as clear and ringing as it had been hoarse and supplicating before.
"Where are you going?" asked Jessica, imitating the tone.
"To Leith Pierrepont," answered Carlita, ignoring subterfuge.
Again Jessica laughed.
"You must be mad!" she replied. "Do you think I will be robbed of my revenge in the eleventh hour?"