Months rolled on, and the Carlyle _eclaircissement_ was almost forgotten, or at least but seldom named, even by those who had been the most interested at first. But Felise was jubilant. "Mother, you see what I can do," she said, with a wicked laugh. "The honeymoon is barely over, yet I have thrown sand in the old man's eyes and parted him from his darling for two whole years." "Felise, how did you accomplish it?" Mrs. Arnold inquired curiously. "That is my secret," she answered, triumphantly. "You might share it with me," her mother said, reproachfully. "I never have secrets from you, my dear." "I only used a little tact and humbug, mother--just a word dropped in season here and there--yet the seed I sowed has brought forth an abundant harvest. I have driven him nearly mad with jealousy and doubt and suspicion; I put that scheme of sending Bonnibel to school into his mind. And yet so blinded is he by his jealousy that he does not dream of my complicity in the matter, and he will always blame himself for the everlasting alienation that will exist between them." "You had your revenge sooner than I thought you would. You are a clever girl, Felise," Mrs. Arnold said, admiringly. "It is but begun," Felise answered, moodily. "If time spares the old man until Bonnibel comes out of her school I will wring his heart even more deeply than I have already done. I bide my time." Her mother, cruel and vindictive as she was herself, looked at her in wonder. "Why, it seems to me that you have already deeply avenged yourself," she said. "Hell has no fury like a woman scorned!" Felise exclaimed, repeating her favorite text. "Be patient, mother, and you shall yet see what a woman scorned can do." "What does Colonel Carlyle propose to do with himself while his wife is immured in her convent?" asked Mrs. Arnold. "He talks of a trip around the world. He affects to be very fond of travel now. But I could see while he talked to me that the old fool repented his intention and would retract it if he could." "Perhaps he may do so yet." "No, he will not. He is too proud and stubborn to do so voluntarily, and I think that Bonnibel has acquiesced so readily in the plan that he can find no loop-hole of escape from it. She is as proud as he is; besides, she does not love him, and his unreasoning harshness has rendered her perfectly reckless. She will go to the school, if only to break his heart." "Perhaps he will die of grief, Felise, or disappointment, and then she will be left a wealthy young widow," cautions Mrs. Arnold. "No danger," sneers Felise, cynically. "Men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for _love_, as the immortal Shakespeare says, mother. I do not anticipate such a contingency. The old dotard has buried two partners and not succumbed to the pangs of bereavement yet. It is possible he may live to plant the weeping willow over his little white-faced dove." "Perhaps so. She has never seemed over strong since her illness last summer."