"Could you not have been satisfied with the wrongs you have inflicted on me and mine, Marcia Cleveland, without attempting my life?" "You should have known better than to think I could remain quiescent under your malicious vengeance! Did you think I could stand idly by and see you ruin my daughter's whole life without striking back at you?" the woman answers, sullenly. "No, for I knew that there was too much of the venomous serpent in your nature," Lady Vera answers, with stinging scorn. "But I believe that even malevolence like yours would have shrunk abashed before such a terrible crime as this which you have attempted. Do you not tremble at the consequences of what you have done?" "I have done nothing. I have only failed in what would have been a source of pride and joy to me if I had succeeded," Mrs. Cleveland answers, with sullen bravado. "Infamous wretch!" Sir Harry Clive mutters audibly, while Colonel Lockhart, with a deathly-pale face and blazing eyes, appears to restrain himself with difficulty from springing upon her and tossing her out of the window. "Should you indeed have been so glad to see me dead?" Lady Vera inquires, with a slight tone of mournfulness. It seems incredible to her pure mind that this woman, in whose veins runs some slight strains of her own blood, being her mother's half-sister, could so coldly and heartlessly wish her dead--could even attempt to kill her. "Yes, I should be glad to see you dead," Mrs. Cleveland answers, viciously. "I have hated Vera Campbell and wished her dead ever since she was born. I hated her mother before her. She robbed me of the only man I ever loved, and earned my eternal hate! And if you are really Edith Campbell's child, as you assert, be assured that I hate you, too, and wish you dead with all my heart!" "Lady Vera, do not bandy words with the heartless creature! She can only wound you more and more," exclaims the baronet, indignantly. "Let us take her away. She contaminates the air we breathe." For the first time a look of fear whitens the woman's reckless, daring face. "Take me away--where?" she mutters, under her breath. "To prison," Sir Harry answers, sternly, "to answer for your crime." "Crime? I have committed no crime. I have not harmed a single hair of my lady's head," the woman answers, with sarcastic insolence. "That is not your fault, woman," he answers, coldly and rebukingly. "You failed in the endeavor, but you shall pay dearly for the attempt. Have you done with her, Lady Vera? We are waiting on your pleasure." Lady Vera stands silent a moment, regarding the wretched creature groveling on the floor in the cords with which they have securely bound her. In spite of her air of reckless bravado, Vera sees that her face is ghastly pale, and the dew of fear beads her brow. The angry eyes fall for the first time before the young girl's gaze of steady contempt. For a moment the silence continues, then Vera asks, clearly and calmly: