“That 's John, my pretty pet. And he likes us young. He took me young, and because I would n't hear of anything but marriage, he married me, and then threw me over, and deserted me, and brought me into terrible trouble, and all that he or any one else may say against me is a lie. Oh! I know all about you. This is n't the first time I've been to Southcliff. And as soon as you could get up and go about,--he knew all along that you would n't lie on your back forever--trust him,--he comes and makes love to you and kisses you, does n't he? And he can't marry you, because he's already married.” Stella rose, and straightened her slim figure, and threw up her delicate head. “I have heard enough. I order you to let me pass.” But the woman laughed at the childish imperiousness. She knew herself to be of wiry physical strength. To catch up that light body and send it hurtling into space would be as easy as kicking a Yorkshire terrier over the edge of a pier. She had once done that. “You 'd make your fortune as a tragedy queen. Why don't you ask Mr. Herold to get you on the stage? Sit down again, darling, and don't be a little fool. I've got lots more to tell you.” “I prefer to stand,” said Stella. “It does n't matter to me whether you stand or sit, my precious pet,” said Mrs. Risca. “I only want to tell you all about your dearly beloved John. Oh, he 's a daisy! They 'll tell you all sorts of things about me--about me and Unity--” “Unity?” cried Stella, taken off her guard. “Yes, darling. You went and saw her the other day, did n't you? Oh, no matter how I know. I only mention it to let you see that I 'm telling the truth. They 'll tell you all sorts of things about me and her; but they 're all lying. What do you think of our friend John's relations with Unity?” “Mr. Risca is Unity's guardian,” said Stella in a cold voice. The woman laughed again. “You little fool! She's his mistress.” Unity again, with the baffling mystery surrounding her! The woman spoke directly, as if in complete revelation. Yet Stella was still in darkness, and the uncontrollable feminine groped toward the light. “I don't understand what you mean,” she said haughtily. “You mean to tell me you don't understand what a man's mistress is?” It took her a few moments to appreciate the virginal innocence of the white and rigid thing in woman's guise. When she did appreciate it, she laughed aloud. “You pretty lamb, don't you know what a wife is?” Stella stood, the cliff above her, the cliff below, midway between her sky and her beloved and dancing sea, a hard-eyed statue. The supreme and deliciously unexpected moment of the criminal woman's life had come. She rose and held Stellamaris with her pale-green eyes, and in a few brutal words she scorched her soul. CHAPTER XIX