"Edna, would you prefer to have me a sworn ally or an avowed enemy?" "I should certainly prefer to consider you as neither." "Did you ever know me fail in any matter which I had determined to accomplish?" "Yes, sir; your entire life is a huge, hideous, woeful failure, which mocks and maddens you." "What the d--l do you know of my life? It is not ended yet, and it remains to be seen whether a grand success is not destined to crown it. Mark you! the grapple is not quite over, and I may yet throttle the furies whose cursed fingers clutched me in my boyhood. If I am conquered finally, take my oath for it, I shall die so hard that the howling hags will be welcome to their prey. Single-handed, I am fighting the world, the flesh, and the devil, and I want neither inspection, nor sympathy, nor assistance. Do you understand me?" "Yes, sir. And as I certainly desire to thrust neither upon you, I will bid you good-night." "One moment! What does that package contain?" "The contents belong exclusively to me--could not possibly interest you--would only challenge your sarcasm, and furnish food for derision. Consequently, Mr. Murray, you must excuse me if I decline your question." "I'll wager my title to Le Bocage that I can guess so accurately that you will regret that you did not make a grace of necessity and tell me." A vague terror overshadowed her features as she examined the seals on the package, and replied: "That, sir, is impossible, if you are the honorable gentleman I have always tried to force myself to believe." "Silly child! Do you imagine I would condescend to soil my fingers with the wax that secures that trash? That I could stoop to an inspection of the correspondence of a village blacksmith's granddaughter? I will give you one more chance to close the breach between us by proving your trust. Edna, have you no confidence in me?" "None, Mr. Murray." "Will you oblige me by looking me full in the face, and repeating your flattering words?" She raised her head, and though her heart throbbed fiercely as she met his eyes, her voice was cold, steady and resolute. "None, Mr. Murray." "Thank you. Some day those same red lips will humbly, tremblingly crave my pardon for what they utter now; and then, Edna Earl, I shall take my revenge, and you will look back to this night and realize the full force of my parting words--voe victis!" He stooped and picked up a bow of rose-colored ribbon which had fallen from her throat, handed it to her, smiled, and, with one of those low, graceful, haughty bows so indicative of his imperious nature, he left the library. A moment after, she heard his peculiar laugh, mirthless and bitter, ring through the rotunda; then the door was slammed violently, and quiet reigned once more through the mansion. Taking the candle from the table, where Mr. Murray had placed it, Edna went back to her own room and sat down before the window.