“You shall repent your cruelty, by Heaven!” the young man cried, madly. He detained her a moment, catching her hand and pressing his burning lips upon it, then rushed from the room and the house, mad with disappointment and despair. Even Thea’s own great happiness could not make her enjoy the ball after that. She was no longer the careless child who had laughed at the devotion of her earlier lovers. She knew what love was like now--all its rapture, all its pain, and she could sympathize with Cameron Bentley in his bitter disappointment. She forgave him the unjust reproaches he had uttered because she knew that he was suffering, and she paid no heed to his parting threat. But the memory of his haggard, despairing looks did not leave her until her blue eyes closed wearily in slumber after the ball was over--the ball that, in spite of Cameron Bentley, had been the very happiest of her young life, for her betrothed husband had been near her constantly, and his pride in her was so unmistakable that no one could doubt his happiness in the betrothal which was duly announced by his mother, and which certainly created a great sensation. It was the theme of the evening, and effectively refuted the malicious slander which had been circulating the past week in social circles, and of which almost every one was cognizant except Thea herself, who, in her airy tulle robe and lilies of the valley, looked angelically fair and peaceful. The Bentleys had been present with all of their guests except the obdurate Miss Faris, but they left rather early because they learned that Cameron had already gone, and, they feared, in despair over the announcement of Thea’s engagement to her guardian. Now, when too late, they regretted their harshness in forbidding Cameron’s proposal to Thea, for the betrothal to Norman put an effectual damper on malicious reports, and they reflected that if Cameron had spoken first he might have won the coveted prize. Mad with reckless despair at his disappointment, the young man had hurried home, and to drown thought, indulged heavily in drink. Locking himself into his room, he spent the night hours in a wild bacchanalia of drink and despair, until the early hours of the morning, when a loud pistol-shot startled every one from slumber and brought them rushing to the scene. The door was burst open, and Cameron was found senseless in a pool of blood on the floor, his right hand grasping a smoking pistol. He had aimed for his heart, but his unsteady hand had slipped aside, and he had only succeeded in giving himself a serious but not fatal wound. When the news of the attempted suicide came to Verelands, Thea was dismayed. “I believe I will make a vow never to speak to a young man again!” she exclaimed, tearfully. “You might do something more sensible than that--marry me soon, and you will no longer be a temptation to young men who go crazy over a pair of blue eyes,” said Norman de Vere. She blushed, and trilled saucily: