“I will not hush! I have been silent too long! If the voice of conscience is dead in your heart, let me arouse it by taunting you with your sin!” Violet cried, in a passion of loathing anger that carried her beyond the bounds of prudence. In another moment she realized her mistake, for, infuriated by her scorn, Harold Castello threw discretion to the winds, and sprang toward her, crying, maliciously: “You shall not taunt me, lovely one, for I will smother the words on your lips with kisses!” His arms were outstretched, his hot breath fanned her cheek, and in another moment he would have clasped her in his arms, but Violet eluded him by stooping suddenly, then darting forward in breathless flight toward the door. With a bound, the man placed himself in her way; then commenced a terrible pursuit that could have but one end--his victory. Violet flew round and round the room, shrieking in terror, and pursued by Castello, whom she cleverly eluded by darts and turns and doublings like a fleet-winged swallow, aiming always to reach the door and escape into the corridor, while her pursuer bent all his energies toward preventing her exit from the room, feeling sure that her strength would give out presently and leave her helpless at his mercy. In this way the contest must surely have ended, for Violet was already growing faint and dizzy, and only her deadly terror of Castello enabled her to maintain her frenzied movements, but a sudden accident saved her in the very nick of time. The draught of air created in the room by the swift movements of herself and Castello as they flew round and round blew the long lace curtains against a cluster of wax candles in a bunch of silver lilies on a stand close by, and the flame ignited the delicate draperies. In another instant leaping tongues of deadly flame sprang up to the ceiling. The roar of the fire as it rapidly caught everything within reach and licked out crimson tongues for more prey, struck terror alike to the hearts of Violet and her pursuer. A cry of fear came from her lips, and an oath from his. Both came to a pause of blank dismay that lasted but an instant on the man’s part, then he sprang forward bravely and began tearing down the blazing curtains, trampling them under his feet, and throwing upon them heavy rugs caught up here and there, until in five minutes he had the fiery element under control, although his face and hair were scorched and his hands frightfully burned. Then he glanced around for Violet. Poor girl! her fictitious strength had given out just a moment too soon. She had tottered to the door, dragged it open, then fallen down unconscious upon the threshold. The beautiful room was ruined, all the snowy furniture scorched or blackened with smoke or cinders. The master of it had burned his hands so severely that he shuddered with pain.