snap, and his whole
face reddened suddenly. "I'll mention this fellow once--now," he said,
speaking each word with emphasis. "His name is Vanrevel. You see that
gate; you see the line of my property there: the man himself, as well
as every other person in the town, remembers well that the last time I
spoke to him, it was to tell him that if he ever set foot on ground of
mine I'd shoot him down, and he knows, and they all know, I shall keep
my word! Elsewhere, I told him that for the sake of public peace, I
should ignore him. I do. You will see him everywhere; but it will not be
difficult; no one will have the hardihood to present him to my daughter.
The quarrel between us--" Mr. Carewe broke off for a moment, his hands
clinching the arms of his chair, while he swallowed with difficulty, as
though he choked upon some acrid bolus, and he was so strongly agitated
by his own mention of his enemy that he controlled himself by a painful
effort of his will. "The quarrel between us is political--and personal.
You will remember."

"I shall remember," she answered in a rather frightened voice.

... It was long before she fell asleep. "I alone must hover about the
gates or steal into your garden like a thief," the Incroyable had said.
"The last time I spoke to him it was to tell him that if he ever set
foot on ground of mine, I'd shoot him down!" had been her father's
declaration. And Mr. Carewe had spoken with the most undeniable air of
meaning what he said. Yet she knew that the Incroyable would come again.

Also, with hot cheeks pressed into her pillow, Miss Betty had identified
the young man in the white hat, that dark person whose hand she had far
too impetuously seized in both of hers. Aha! It was this gentleman
who looked into people's eyes and stammered so sincerely over a pretty
speech that you almost believed him, it was he who was to marry Fanchon
Bareaud--"if he remembers!" No wonder Fanchon had been in such a
hurry to get him away.... "If he remembers!" Such was that young man's
character, was it? Miss Carewe laughed aloud to her pillow: for, was one
to guess the reason, also, of his not having come to her ball? Had the
poor man been commanded to be "out of town?"

Then, remembering the piquant and generous face of Fanchon, Betty
clinched her fingers tightly and crushed the imp who had suggested the
unworthy thought, crushed him to a wretched pulp and threw him out of
the open window. He immediately sneaked in by t