Bartley Bradstone’s face went ashen, and he shrank back and put up his arm as if to ward off an expected blow. A bitter smile crossed Faradeane’s lips. “Do not be a coward as well as a fool,” he said, with quiet contempt. Bartley Bradstone flushed--anything above a cur would have been spurred into at least the semblance of courage at the terrible scorn of the tone. “You--you dare----” he began, blusteringly. Faradeane’s hand dropped upon his arm, and grasped it in a grip of iron. “Speak more quietly, please,” he said, “and don’t threaten. Why, man”--and he smiled grimly--“if I were as helpless in your hands as you are in mine you would not dare to strike me.” He dropped the arm, which felt as if it had been seized in a vise. “Listen to me. You wish to quarrel; I do not, for a reason which you would not understand if I gave it to you. You have insulted me, which is--nothing. You have insulted the lady who has stooped to be your promised wife.” “Stooped!” blustered Bradstone, but very quietly. “Yes; how low, you alone know,” said Faradeane, his eyes fixed on Bradstone’s face, which went white. “Do not venture to do so again. Why, man”--and for the first time his voice showed signs of the emotion which racked him--“have you so little sense as not to appreciate the treasure you have secured? Are you such a hopeless fool, so utterly blinded by self-conceit, as to undervalue the prize you have snatched?” “I am not so blind as not to see your game----” began Bartley Bradstone. Faradeane held up his hand. “Silence,” he said, sternly. “Do not connect her name with mine, even in your thoughts. You know as little of my heart and my motives as you know--Heaven help you!--of hers. Be content with your success; try, in Heaven’s name, try with all the strength you possess, to be more worthy of her. You think you love her--be sure you reverence her! I use no empty threats, Bradstone, when I say--I who am separated from her by a gulf that can never be bridged--that I demand her happiness at your hands. Dare to insult her again as you have done to-night----” He stopped, his face set, his eyes flashing. Then he laid his hand upon the other man’s now trembling arm. “That’s enough; we understand each other, I think.” “I want to know----” stammered Bartley, looking him up and down, but carefully avoiding meeting the steadfast regard of the now calm eyes.