Felise motioned her mother to a chair, and sank into another herself. Mrs. Arnold seated herself and looked at her daughter searchingly. Mrs. Arnold took up the conversation where it had been dropped when they left the carriage. "You say you forged the notice of Leslie Dane's death in the newspaper," she said. "Of course you had some object in doing that, Felise." "Yes, of course," with another wicked laugh. "It was to further the revenge of which I have had so sweet a taste to-night." "So what has happened to-night is only what you have intended and desired all along?" Felise bowed with the grace of a duchess. "Exactly," she answered, with a triumphant smile. "I have been planning and scheming over two years to bring about the consummation of to-night." "It was cleverly planned and well executed," Mrs. Arnold said, admiringly; "but is it quite finished? Of course Colonel Carlyle does not know the truth yet." "He knows that Leslie Dane was a former lover of his wife; he witnessed their meeting to-night. That of itself was enough to inflame his jealous passions to the highest degree, and make him wretched. I rely upon Bonnibel herself to finish my work." "Upon Bonnibel! How will she do it?" "You know her high and overstrained sense of honor, mother. Of course she will not remain with Colonel Carlyle, now that she knows she is not his wife. There is but one course open to her. She will fly with Leslie Dane, and leave a note behind her revealing the whole truth to him." "Are you sure she will, Felise?" "I am quite certain, mother. That is the only orthodox mode for such a heroine of romance as your husband's niece. To-morrow Leslie Dane and his silly young wife will have flown beyond pursuit and discovery, yet neither one can be happy. The years in which she has belonged to Colonel Carlyle will be a blight and a blot upon her fair fame that she can never forget, while Leslie Dane, with the passions of manhood burning in his veins, _cannot_ forget and will scarcely _forgive_ it. They cannot be happy. My revenge has struck too deep at the root of that evanescent flower that the world calls happiness. And Colonel Carlyle is the proudest man on earth. Think you that he can ever hold up his head again after the shame and disgrace of that dreadful blow?" "Scarcely," said Mrs. Arnold, echoing her daughter's laugh with one as cold and cruel. "You have taken a brave revenge, Felise, for Colonel Carlyle's wrongs against you, and if all goes as you have planned, I shall be proud of your talents and rejoice in your success. But my mind misgives me. Suppose some officious American here--and you know there are plenty such now sojourning in Paris--should remember Leslie Dane and arrest him for my husband's murder?" For a moment Felise Herbert grew pale, and an icy hand seemed tugging at her heart-strings.