meless; he was my
friend when I was friendless. I have broken his bread and drunk of his
cup, and slept under his roof, and--I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

Mr. Parmalee took out his cigar and stared at her in horror.

"I tell you what it is, Miss Silver," he said, "I don't like this sort
of thing--I don't, by George! I ain't surprised at a person hating a
person, because I hate him myself; but for a young woman that is going
to be my wife to cut up like this here, and swear everlasting
vengeance--well, I don't like it. You see, wild cats ain't the most
comfortable sort of pets a man can have in his house, and how do I know
but it may be my turn next?"

"You precious old stupid! As if I could hate you, if I tried. No, no,
George; you may trust Sybilla. The wild cat will sheathe her claws in
triple folds of velvet for you."

"Humph!" said Mr. Parmalee; "but the claws will still be there.
However, I ain't a-going to quarrel with you about it. I like a spunky
woman, and I hate him. I'll meet my lady to-night, and you see that my
lady's husband finds it out."

"Until then," responded Sybilla, folding her mantle closer about her,
"remember the hour--eight sharp--and don't keep her waiting. Before he
sleeps to-night the proudest baronet in the realm shall know why his
wife deliberately deceived him to meet a strange man by night and by
stealth in the park, where her husband had ordered him never to set
foot again."

She fluttered away in the chill spring twilight with the last words,
leaving her fiance gazing after her with an expression that was not
altogether unmixed admiration.

"I'll be darned if I ever met the like of you, Miss Silver, in all my
travels. You might be own sister to Lucifer himself for wickedness and
revengefulness. I'll find out what's at the bottom of all this
cantankerous spite before I make you Mrs. G. W. Parmalee, or I'll know
the reason why. It's all very fine to have a handsome wife, with big
black eyes and a spunky spirit, but a fellow doesn't want a wife that
will bury the carving-knife in him the first time he contradicts her."

Sybilla was a good walker; the last yellow line of the watery February
sunset had hardly faded as she tripped up the long drive under the
gaunt, tossing trees. Mr. Edwards still lounged in elegant leisure in
the hall, conversing with a gigantic young footman, and his fishy eyes
kindled for the second time as Sybilla appeared, flushed and bright