e
could bring himself to rise to take his departure. Death could hardly
be colder to a mortal than she had been to this man all the evening,
and yet it had not disconcerted him in the least!

He stood for a moment regarding her with the eyes of possession. "And
to think that to-morrow night I shall have the right to openly claim
you as my promised wife!" he exulted. "You can't realize what it means
to a man to be able to say to the world that the most beautiful woman
in it is his!"

Directly in front of her hung the portrait of the founder of the house
in Carolina, the cavalier who had fled to the new world when Charles
Stuart's head fell in the old one. It was a fine and proud face, the
eyes frank and brave, the mouth firm and sweet. The girl looked from
it to George Inglesby's, and found herself unable to speak. But as she
stood before him, tall and proud and pale, the loveliness, the
appealing charm of her, went like a strong wine to the man's head.
With a quick and fierce movement he seized her hand and covered it
with hot and hateful kisses.

At the touch of his lips cold horror seized her. She dragged her hand
free and waved him back with a splendid indignation. But Inglesby was
out of hand; he had taken the bit between his teeth, and now he
bolted.

"Do you think I'm made of stone?" he bellowed, and the mask slipped
altogether. There was no hypocrisy about Inglesby now; this was
genuine. "Well, I'm not! I'm a man, a flesh-and-blood man, and I'm
crazy for you--and you're _mine_! You're _mine_, and you might just as
well face the music and get acquainted with me, first as last.
Understand?

"I'm not such a bad sort--what's the matter with me, anyhow? Why ain't
I good enough for you or any other woman? Suppose I'm not a young
whippersnapper with his head full of nonsense and his pockets full of
nothing, can the best popinjay of them all do for you what _I_ can?
Can any of 'em offer you what _I_ can offer? Let him try to: I'll
raise his bid!

"Here--don't you stand there staring at me as if I'd tried to slit
your throat just because I've kissed your hand. Suppose I did? Why
shouldn't I kiss your hand if I want to? It's my hand, when all's said
and done, and I'll kiss it again if I feel like it. No, no, beauty, I
won't, not if it's going to make you look at me like that! Why, queen,
I wouldn't frighten you for worlds! I love you too much to want to do
anything but please you. I'd do anything, everything, just