When the beautiful brunette in her drive through the park met Jessie
Lyndon riding by the side of Frank Laurier, all the blood in her veins
seemed momentarily to turn to ice in the shock of surprise, and then to
burn like liquid fire under the impulse of jealous rage.
If a look could have killed, the fierce gleam of her eyes must have
slain her fair rival instantly, as by a lightning flash!
Then all at once something terrible happened.
Frank Laurier’s gayly prancing horses suddenly snorted with fear and
rage, and bounded forward so swiftly that he lost his grip on the
reins, having been momentarily unstrung by a meeting he had anticipated
ever since entering the park.
A dreadful panic ensued on the crowded driveway.
The air was filled with shouts and cries that only maddened the frantic
steeds dashing madly forward without control, for all Laurier’s efforts
to regain his reins were fruitless, and, leaning too far forward, he
was jerked violently to one side and thrown from the vehicle out upon
the ground, leaving Jessie alone, clinging desperately to the seat, her
lovely face convulsed with terror, her dark eyes dilated with fear and
dim with raining tears, a picture of beauty and distress, while her
frightened shrieks rang wildly on the air.
Another harrowing moment, and the anguished voice was hushed, the
sweet eyes closed, the throbbing heart stilled! In their mad rush
trying to evade capture, the horses collided with a tree, shattering
the light vehicle, and hurling the young girl out upon the grass. All
white and unconscious, she lay there, a thin stream of blood trickling
down her temple where a stone had grazed it and staining the gold of
her hair with crimson.
A sympathetic crowd soon gathered around, exclaiming in wonder and pity
at her girlish beauty and her sorrowful plight.
But in a minute a light dogcart that had swiftly followed the runaways
was reined in upon the spot, and a young man sprang quickly from it,
advancing on the scene, while he cried with an air of authority:
“Stand back, everybody, and give her air!”
“Who is she? Who is she?” rang on every side, and the young man, who
was no other than Carey Doyle, answered impudently:
“She is my little sister Jessie, and I would like to take her home, if
you people will give me room to pass!”
Before his impatient show of authority, every one stupidly gave way,
and, lifting her carefully in his arms, Carey Doyle placed Jessie in
the dogcart, while he muttered exultantly to himself:
“Ah, my scornful little beauty, you are in my power now, and I will pay
you well for your fine airs as well as for the kick that rich fool gave
me!”
He was about to leap into the cart when an elegant victoria drove up,
in which sat two very handsome women. One of them, the youngest,
leaned forward and called him to her side.
Flashing her great eyes imperiously at the impatient young man, she
whispered eagerly:
“What is she to you?”
He muttered curtly:
“My sweetheart!”
“Ah!” she murmured joyfully, and added softly: “I saw you come up
behind them and frighten his horses with the lash. Why did you do it?”
His coarse face was scowling as he answered sullenly:
“She went with him against my will, and I was furious enough to kill
them both!”
“Do not be afraid of me--I will not betray you unless you disobey my
orders. Listen: He is my lover, and she is trying to lure him from me.
It is your task to keep them apart, and if they ever meet again, I will
denounce you for this crime. You understand?”
“Yes, and will obey!” he returned, just as the other lady leaned across
the seat, saying anxiously:
“What does he say about the young girl? Is she injured much?”
Carey Doyle answered quickly:
“Only a scratch on the temple and a fainting spell, madame. I’ll take
her home fast as I can, and she will soon be all right,” and he leaped
into the cart.
“I hope so,” she said kindly, and, as he drove away, she said to her
companion:
“What an exquisitely lovely face the poor girl has! And what beautiful
sunny hair, so fine and curly! I wonder who she is, Cora, and where
Frank happened to make her acquaintance?”
“I’ll tell you all I know when we get home,” the young lady answered,
frowning darkly at the memory of that morning’s rencontre at Madame
Barto’s with lovely Jessie.
She thought viciously:
“That old witch lied to me--she knew he was there to see the girl, but
she feared to own the truth to me. But I shall have an ally now in the
man who carried her off this evening, and woe to him if he breaks faith
with me!”