And as he gazed at the dark, brilliant face that had once charmed him so, he told himself that surely the old love would come back as soon as that painful, lingering remorse over Jessie should fade from his mind. Who could help loving beautiful Cora, even in spite of the glimpses he had had of cruel depths in her mind? He would try to forget how heartlessly she had acted to her hapless little rival and love her again in spite of all. He knew that scores of men envied him the prize he had won in the promise of her hand; even Ernest Noel, his best man, scarcely disguised the fact that he had fallen a victim to her witcheries, and frankly envied his friend, so he was not surprised on going out to meet Noel coming up the steps to call on Cora, as had now become his daily habit. CHAPTER XXI. PLAYING WITH FIRE. The young men nodded gayly at each other, then Ernest Noel passed into the house. “How radiant you look, ma belle!” he exclaimed enviously. Cora’s red lips parted over her pearly teeth in an enchanting smile of joy, as she answered: “Frank has just gone, and we were naming the wedding day again.” She knew well that the announcement would pierce his heart like a sword, for only yesterday Ernest had proved unfaithful to his friend and pleaded for her love. Beautiful Cora had laughed at her passionate suitor, enraging him with her scorn. “You led me on, encouraged me to love you, and hope for a return!” he cried sullenly. “Nonsense! You knew I was engaged to Frank all the time!” she cried. “Yet you pretend indifference to him, refused to marry him on what might have been his deathbed, and, besides, I had heard it whispered that you were so angry on your wedding day you had vowed vengeance on your recreant bridegroom. Is not all this true, Cora?” “I deny your right to question me. I shall marry Frank when he gets well,” she cried, with her most imperious air. “My God, then you were only coquetting with me to pass the time--is it true?” “I was kind to you because you were Frank’s friend--that is all--and you are very wicked to try to steal me from him,” she cried defiantly. “You were playing with fire,” he muttered, and turned and went away with a strange smile glooming his dark, strong face. To-day he wore a careless smile, and did not flinch when she told him so triumphantly that she had just named the wedding day again. “Is it so, indeed? Then you will soon be lost to me forever!” he cried lightly, adding: “I must steal every hour I can from my fortunate rival until the fatal day. The crust of the snow is hard, and my sleigh is at the door. Will you come with me for a ride?” “Yes, I will go,” she answered kindly. Warmly wrapped in sealskin, she followed him out to the natty little sleigh, careless in her happiness of the gloomy day and lowering storm clouds, little dreaming of what was coming.