The white face into which the man gazed grew whiter still, the eyes
dilated, and her heart twinged with a pang of jealousy more bitter than
death to endure.
People always made that remark when speaking of Dorothy. It was that
fatal gift which had won her lover from her, Nadine said to herself, and
which had wrecked her life.
Oh! if she could but destroy that pink-and-white beauty!
The thought was born in Nadine Holt's breast all in an instant, and
seemed to fire her whole being.
She knew her lover's passionate adoration of a beautiful face, and then
and there the thought came to her: How long would he love Dorothy Glenn
if that pretty pink-and-white face were seamed and scarred?
She laughed--a low, strange, eerie laugh that quite startled the man as
he walked away.
Left to herself, Nadine Holt deliberately opened the hall door and stole
into the house. She had but one purpose in view, and that was to
confront her lover and Dorothy before all the invited guests.
There was nothing about the dark figure to attract especial attention,
and she glided through the corridor unnoticed.
Was it the hand of fate most terrible that guided her toward the
conservatory? The dark figure glided like a shadow toward the open door,
and then paused abruptly, for the low sound of voices fell upon her ear,
and one of them she recognized as that of her perfidious lover.
Through the softened pearly gloom she saw him sitting on the rustic
bench close--very close--to the slender, girlish figure in fleecy white,
and the sight made the blood in her veins turn to molten fire.
Like an evil spirit she crept toward them. She would--she _must_--know
what he was saying to his companion in that leafy bower.
She said to herself, of course it was Dorothy, and that they had stolen
away from the lights and the music for a few tender words with each
other, after the fashion of love-sick lovers.
It had not been so very long ago since he had been talking with her in
just that lover-like way, only their courtship had taken place in the
public parks, sitting on the benches, or walking lovingly arm in arm
along the crowded thoroughfares; and he had brought Dorothy to his own
grand home--Dorothy, her hated rival!--to enjoy this paradise of a
place, and to make love to her in this Eden bower of roses and scented,
murmuring, tinkling fountains.
"Dorothy!" he murmured in his rich, low, musical voice. How plainly she
heard the name! The rest of the sentence she could not catch, though she
crept nearer and nearer, and strained every nerve to listen. "I love you
as I have never loved anything in this life before," she heard him say,
"and my future without you would be unendurable. I can not endure it--I
will not!"
The poor wretch who listened grew mad as she heard the tender words
whispered into the ears of another by her false lover.
She crouched still lower, and her hand, as she threw it out wildly, came
in contact with something hard and cold. It was a long, thin,
sharp-bladed knife which the gardener had been using only that day to
trim the bushes, and which, in his hurry, he had carelessly forgotten.
She realized instantly what it was, and, with the thought, a diabolical
idea crept into her brain.
"Why should Dorothy Glenn live to enjoy the smiles of the man whose love
she has robbed me of," she muttered below her breath, "while my heart
hungers and my soul quivers in endless torture for the affection that
is denied me? I can endure it no longer!"
The mad desire to spoil the fair beauty of her rival overpowered her
until the thought possessed her and rendered her almost a fiend
incarnate.
Grasping the long, sharp-bladed knife tightly, Nadine Holt raised her
right arm slowly, cautiously. Not so much as a leaf rustled to warn the
two sitting on the rustic bench of the terrible danger that hung over
them.
Harry Kendal's low, musical voice sank to a lower cadence. He drew the
slender figure of the girl nearer and that action was fatal.
There was a quick, whizzing sound, followed by an awful cry of terror
from Iris, and Kendal's hand, resting lightly about her waist, was
deluged in blood.
"Murder! murder! Oh, heavens!" shrieked Iris, and she fell at his feet
in a swoon.
In the commotion Nadine Holt turned like a pantheress and made her
escape from the conservatory and from the house.
"Murder! murder!" Those terrible cries that rent the air were the first
sounds that Dorothy heard as her benumbed brain gained consciousness.
And as she staggered, benumbed and dazed, to her feet she almost fell
over a slimy knife lying there, and at that instant a strong hand flung
back the rose-vines and Harry Kendal, white and quivering with wrath,
confronted her.
"Dorothy Glenn!" he cried, in a horrible voice fairly reverberating with
intense emotion, "You! Oh, you cruel, wicked girl! You--you fiend! to do
what you have done!" and reaching out his hand he flung her backward
from him as though she were a scorpion whose very touch was
contamination. "Fly up to your own room," he cried, hoarsely, "and do
not leave it for a moment until I come to you there! Have nothing to
say; refuse to speak to any one!" and catching her fiercely by the
shoulder, he fairly dragged her through the conservatory toward the rear
door, which communicated with a back stairway that led up to her room.
Faint and dazed, Dorothy had not offered the least resistance to this
cruel treatment. Her brain seemed stupefied by the whirling, confusing
events taking place so rapidly around her. She only realized two things:
that she had betrayed her presence in the conservatory when she fell to
the floor upon hearing her lover speak words of affection to her rival,
and that Harry was bitterly angry with her for being there. She did not
remember that she had lost consciousness. It seemed to her that as her
senses were about leaving her strange cries recalled them.
It occurred to her that in his excitement and anger her lover had not
noticed that she had regained her sight.
Wearily Dorothy ascended the steep, narrow stairway and entered her own
room. A soft, low, dim light flooded the apartment, upon which she had
not gazed for many and many a long day.
Katy was not there, and she flung herself into the nearest arm-chair,
sobbing wretchedly, although on that night she had cause to cry out to
Heaven and rejoice for God's mercy to her for so unexpectedly restoring
her sight. But, ah, me! how strange it is that all the blessings Heaven
can shower upon us seem as dross when the one love we crave proves
fickle.
Dorothy did not have the heart to cry out joyfully and thankfully. Her
head drooped on her breast with a low, quivering sigh, and her hands
fell in her lap.
Suddenly something around the bottom of her dress caught her eye, and
she started to her feet with a low cry.
"It is blood!" she cried out in an awful voice.
No sooner had the door closed behind Dorothy ere Kendal flew back to
Iris' side.
No one had heard the terrible cries. He thanked Heaven for that. The
music had drowned them.
He had quite believed that Iris was dying. A hasty examination showed
him that it was only a slight wound on the shoulder, from which blood
was flowing profusely.
"Thank God it is no worse!" he cried, breathing freely.
He quickly set about restoring Iris, and in a moment she opened her
eyes.
"Murder! murder!" she would have cried again, but he put his hand
instantly over her red lips.
"Hush! hush! in Heaven's name!" he cried. "You will alarm the whole
household. You are not seriously hurt!"
"Some one was trying to murder me!" shrieked Iris, hysterically.
"No, no!" he returned, quickly. "Listen, Iris, for Heaven's sake! One of
the panes of glass of the conservatory directly overhead was broken,
and--and a little part of it fell in, grazing your shoulder. It is a
deep and painful scratch, I can well understand; but it is only a
scratch, I can assure you."
"Oh, it has ruined my dress!" cried the girl, in anger and dismay, never
thinking for an instant of doubting the truth of his assertion. "I can
not appear in the ball-room again. No one must know that we were here
together," she went on, hastily--"not one human soul! You must give out
that I--I became suddenly indisposed and went to my own room."
"Yes, I think your suggestions are best," he agreed.
The guests received this explanation of the sudden absence of the beauty
of the ball with regret, and more than one whisper went the rounds of
the room how this seemed to disturb handsome Harry Kendal, for his face
was very pale, and he seemed so nervous.
At the earliest opportunity Harry Kendal slipped away from the merry
throng and up to Dorothy's apartment, hastily knocking at the door.
She opened it herself.
"Step out into the corridor," he said, sternly; "I want to speak to
you."
And trembling with apprehension caused by his stern manner, Dorothy
obeyed.
She could see, even in the dim light, that his face was white as death.
"I have come to have an understanding with you, Dorothy Glenn!" he cried
hoarsely. "Your dastardly action of to-night has forever placed a
barrier between you and me! I am here to say this to you: here and now I
sever our betrothal! The same roof shall no longer shelter us both!
Either you leave this house to-night, or I'll go!"