"She has deceived me," he thought, as he sat alone on the evening of the day on which she had refused to marry him. "She made me believe that she cared for me, the little witch, and then she deliberately threw me over. I suppose she wants to marry Vivian. I'll stop that scheme. I'll tell her something about Vivian which she does not know." The fire before which he was sitting burnt up brightly, and threw a red glow on the dark panelling of the room, on the brocaded velvet of the old chair against which he leaned his handsome head, on the pale, but finely-chiselled, features of his face. The look of subtlety, of mingled passion and cruelty, was becoming engraved upon that face: in moments of repose its expression was evil and sinister--an expression which told its own tale of his life and thoughts. Once, in London, when he had incautiously given himself up in a public place to rejection upon his plans, an artist said to a friend as they passed him by: "That young fellow has got the very look I want for the fallen angel in my picture. There's a sort of malevolent beauty about his face which one doesn't often meet." Hugo heard the remark, and smoothed his brow, inwardly determining to control his facial muscles better. He did not wish to give people a bad impression of him. To look like a fallen angel was the last thing he desired. In society, therefore, he took pains to appear gentle and agreeable; but the hours of his solitude were stamping his face with ineradicable traces of the vicious habits, the thoughts of crime, the attempts to do evil, in which his life was passed. The ominous look was strongly marked on his face as he sat by the fire that evening. It was not the firelight only that gave a strange glow to his dark eyes--they were unnaturally luminous, as the eyes of madmen sometimes are, and full of a painful restlessness. The old, dreamy, sensuous languor was seldom seen in their shadowy depths. "I will win her in spite of herself," he went on, muttering the words half-aloud: "I will make her love me whether she will or no. She may fight and she may struggle, but she shall be mine after all. And before very long. Before the month is out, shall I say? Before Brian and her brother come home at any rate. They are expected in February. Yes--before February. Then, Kitty, you will be my wife." He smiled as he said the words, but the smile was not a pleasant one.