He was visibly disquieted, and in an indecisive, self-exculpating manner he asked-- “But you did lure me, knowing he was there, didn’t you?” “Oh, Master Dauban, how can you say such cruel things! I would have thought the words would burn your lips. Do you think I would have had you maltreated; you?” and again with excellent inconsequence she took fire again, using her eyes all the while with deadly effect. “But I am glad now. Yes, I am glad, glad, glad; do you understand? You are one of those men who think they can play with a girl as they will; and you shall pay for it. Aye, you shall, if I have to go on my knees to beg some one to do me justice. You shall fool me no more.” He was thoroughly perplexed, as well he might be, indeed. “I don’t understand you. You are going to marry Denys.” She laughed recklessly, almost wildly, stamped her foot at him again, and flashed glances of anger at him. “Marry Denys! Yes, I will marry any man now; any man who will avenge me with you. Look to yourself, I warn you. Oh, my God!” and as if in passion she hid her face in her hands and turned away. “Lucette, Lucette,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off angrily and started from him. Other feelings were roused in him now than greed and cunning, and he found them very flattering to his vanity and very delightful. “Don’t do this, Lucette. I had no idea, on my soul, I hadn’t,” he said. The words appeared to add fuel to her anger, and uncovering her face she turned upon him, the traces of tears in her eyes. “What a coward’s speech; oh, what a coward’s speech!” she cried vehemently. “Who but a coward would make such a plea! But I ought to have known you better--aye, as I know you now. You spoke me gently, gave me soft speeches, led me to think I know not what, you won my--but I will not lower myself to say more; and then like a coward and all unlike the man I deemed you, you fawn on me with your ‘I had no idea.’ Shame on you, shame on you. I could hate you for such words.” “_Could_ hate me, Lucette; but you do not?” It was plain, indeed, from both her words and agitation. “If I do not,” and she held him with an intent look for a pause until she appeared to master her emotion, and said quietly, “I have forgotten my resolve. I meant not to speak to you again, Master Dauban. It will be better so; and in time I may forgive and--forget,” the last word died away in a sigh which went straight to his heart. “As God is my judge, Lucette, I had no thought of this. I wronged you. I believed you did but play with me and took me that evening to the pine-walk that Denys St. Jean should see us. Why, I love the very ground you tread on.” “No, no, I won’t hear it. I won’t believe it; I cannot.” “It’s true, it’s true, I swear it is.” Again she looked at him long and searchingly until the lustre of her eyes seemed to daze him.