"Felise, do you not fret yourself, my dear. I am persuaded that everything will come right soon. Suppose Colonel Carlyle is in love with Bonnibel. If he proposes to her she is compelled to refuse his offer. What more natural than that he should return to you then, and make you his wife. Hearts are often caught on the rebound, you know." "Mother, hush! You talk like a simpleton as you are!" was the fierce retort. Mrs. Arnold was stung to anger by the unprovoked insolence of her daughter. She rose and looked at her in dignified displeasure. "Felise," she said, threateningly, "you are my daughter, but you must not suppose that I will tamely bear the continued disrespect and contumely I have lately been forced to receive at your hands. In your rage at losing Colonel Carlyle you seem to forget that it is in my power to make you almost as wealthy as he could do. Remember, I am a very rich woman, and I can leave my wealth to whom I please." "And who placed you in that position?" sneered Felise. "How much would you have been worth but for my constant care of your interests? A third of your husband's property, which was all you could legally claim! That was what he said to his big wax-doll. The balance of his money was for her, to make her a queen and win the homage of the world for her. Perhaps you will leave her the money I have risked so much to gain for you?" "Felise, this is but idle recrimination. You know I would not leave Bonnibel Vere a penny to save her soul from perdition, and you know I have been scheming all my life to get that money for you, and that I will certainly give it to you. But I do not understand your mood to-night. What is it that you wish me to do?" "Nothing, nothing! Months ago I begged you to send the girl away and you refused me. You knew I hated her, and you knew I spared nothing that came in my way. She has come between me and my dearest ambition. Now let her look to herself. I tell you, mother, I will take a _terrible revenge_ on Bonnibel Vere for what I have lost. _I have sworn it, and I will surely keep my vow!_" She stood still a moment with upraised hands, looking fixedly at her mother, then she turned and went swiftly from the room. Mrs. Arnold stared after her blankly. She was a cruel and wicked woman, but she would not have dared to go such lengths as her daughter. She was afraid of her daughter, and frightened at the terrible intent expressed in her tone and manner. "My God!" she murmured, with a shiver, "what rash act is she about to commit?" CHAPTER XIII.