SLIGO MOULTRIE _vice_ ABEL NEWT.
Abel Newt had now had two distinct warnings of something which nobody
knew must happen so well as he. He dined sumptuously that very day, and
dressed very carefully that evening, and at eight o'clock was sitting
alone with Grace Plumer. The superb ruby was on her finger. But on the
third finger of her left hand he saw a large glowing opal. His eyes
fastened upon it with a more brilliant glitter. They looked at her too
so strangely that Grace Plumer felt troubled and half alarmed. "Am I too
late?" he thought.
"Miss Grace," said Abel, in a low voice.
The tone was significant.
"Mr. Newt," said she, with a half smile, as if she accepted a contest of
badinage.
"Do you remember I said I was perfectly happy?"
He moved his chair a little nearer to hers. She drew back almost
imperceptibly.
"I remember you _said_ so, and I was very glad to hear it."
"Do you remember my theory of perfect happiness?"
"Yes," said Miss Plumer, calmly, "I believe it was perfect love. But I
think we had better talk of something else;" and she rose from her chair
and stood by the table.
"Miss Plumer!"
"Mr. Newt."
"It was you who first emboldened me."
"I do not understand, Sir."
"It was a long time ago, in my mother's conservatory."
Grace Plumer remembered the evening, and she replied, more softly,
"I am very sorry, Mr. Newt, that I behaved so foolishly: I was young. But
I think we did each other no harm."
"No harm, I trust, indeed, Miss Grace," said Abel. "It is surely no harm
to love; at least, not as I love you."
He too had risen, and tried to take her hand. She stepped back. He
pressed toward her.
"Grace; dear Grace!"
"Stop, Sir, stop!" said his companion, drawing herself up and waving him
back; "I can not hear you talk so. I am engaged."
Abel turned pale. Grace Plumer was frightened. He sprang forward and
seized her hand.
"Oh! Grace, hear me but one word! You knew that I loved you, and you
allowed me to come. In honor, in truth, before God, you are mine!"
She struggled to release her hand. As she looked in his face she saw
there an expression which assured her that he was capable of saying any
thing, of doing any thing; and she trembled to think how much she might
be--how much any woman is--in the power of a desperate man.
"Indeed, Mr. Newt, you must let me go!"
"Grace, Grace, say that you love me!"
The frightened girl broke away from him, and ran toward the door. Abel
followed her, but the door opened, and Sligo Moultrie entered.
"Oh, Sligo!" cried Grace, as he put his arm around her.
Abel stopped and bowed.
"Pardon me, Miss Plumer. Certainly Mr. Moultrie will understand the ardor
of a passion which in his case has been so fortunate. I am sorry, Sir,"
he said, turning to Sligo, "that my ignorance of your relation to Miss
Plumer should have betrayed me. I congratulate you both from my soul!"
He bowed again, and before they could speak he was gone. The tone of his
voice lingering upon their ears was like a hiss. It was a most sinister
felicitation.