Frank impulsively followed the direction of that consuming gaze, to where the betrothed lovers sat fully reconciled. Clifton, unconscious of all eyes, but those blue orbs that smiled so graciously upon him, was pressing Carolyn’s hand to his lips in an ecstacy of love and gratitude. Frank turned again to Mrs. Clifton. Her countenance had changed as by the passage of a thunder-cloud. Her bosom was still as death. Her brow and cheek was darkened, her teeth and lips clenched together, her eyes fixed upon the lovers with the baleful glare of a demon. If the head of the fabled Medusa had suddenly met his astonished gaze, he could not have felt a deeper thrill of horror. And yet it was only a look—the look of an instant—it came and went like the swift swooping past of a fiend’s wing—but the shadow on all things seemed to remain. No more did that room seem the blessed retreat of household faith and love—no! a deadly serpent lay coiled among its flowers—a deadly poison lurked in its cup of joy—the shadow of a demon’s wing was brooding in the air—the house was CURSED! Frank was of a highly honorable nature, but nervous and impressible—he could no longer confine his attention to the game; he misplayed awkwardly—ridiculously. Zuleime laughed at him—and her silver laughter struck almost unpleasantly upon his ear. He lost the game, and finally, complimenting his young antagonist upon the excellence of her own play—an excellence which he admitted he had not fully brought out—Frank arose from the table and sauntered out into the piazza, exclaiming inwardly—“Ugh! I believe in Satan, since I’ve seen that woman! Ugh! Whe-ew! Every time I think of her I shall feel hot and smell brimstone!” I said that Frank was of an extremely impressible nature. He stood now upon the piazza at the back of the house, and the majestic crescent of cliffs was before him. The quiet of the night, the freshness of the dew, the coolness of the breeze, the beauty and sublimity of the mountains rising from their girdle of forest, with their peaks bathed in moonlight—the distant glimpse of the bend in the river, where it lay like a silver lake among the hills—the divine peace and holiness of nature fell soothingly, refreshingly upon his excited nerves. And after sauntering up and down the piazza for some twenty minutes, he returned to the parlor in a happier mood. There he found the family grouped around the table on which sat a silver basket of pine-apples with cut-glass plates, and silver fruit knives and napkins. “Come, Mr. Fairfax, my dear fellow, we are waiting for you,” said the old gentleman, beckoning him. Frank joined them at the table, and after this repast was over, the family separated and retired to bed. CHAPTER III. MRS. CLIFTON, OF HARDBARGAIN.