Fair’s eyes flashed in disdainful defiance, but just then Alice Stevens, one of the pretty working girls whom Fair had been so anxious to invite to her wedding, went up to Belva Platt, and asked curiously: “What did Fair do, Miss Platt, that made you so mad with her?” “Never mind!” answered Belva angrily; but Lucy Miller, another one of the girls, exclaimed vivaciously: “Oh, I know, Alice! She cut Belva out with Waverley Osborne, and Belva was so mad she did this to get even with Fair. But I think it was very mean, don’t you, Alice?” “Yes, I do, for Fair didn’t care for Waverley at all, and she’s a good girl, and I think it’s a shame that Belva’s treated her so bad,” answered Alice, with a reproachful glance at Belva, who paid no heed to it, for at that moment she heard Fair saying: “Come, mother--come, Sadie! We will go home.” “Ladies, you have not partaken of the wedding feast yet. Won’t you drink some beer to the happiness of the wedded pair?” Belva called out insolently, with ineffable malice; but no one noticed her. Fair, with her hand on her mother’s arm, was moving toward the door, with Sadie Allen on the other side of her. George Lorraine started to follow them, but the deceived bride looked around at him with burning eyes. “Do not dare follow me, nor come near me!” she said, with a blaze of scorn, and he shrank back like a culprit. The beautiful, angry eyes turned from him then, and rested on Belva’s face with its fiendish smile of triumph. “Miss Platt, I have never harmed you,” she said. “I did not know until a moment ago that Waverley Osborne was anything to you, and if I had known it I could not have treated him more coldly than I did always. You have taken a cruel revenge upon one who never willfully wronged you, and Heaven will punish you for what you have done. I know I am only a poor working girl. I have no one to take my part except the poor working girls, my friends and companions. I have no father to call this villain here to an account. I cannot avenge myself, but I leave you to the justice of Heaven.” And for a moment, as the beautiful face of the wronged girl turned appealingly toward heaven it seemed to Belva and them all as if she were invoking the divine vengeance upon her enemies with such earnestness as must surely bring it down upon their heads. The next moment she passed unmolested through the door with her mother and her friend; and the others, with the exception of Belva Platt and George Lorraine, after a moment’s hesitation, followed after. Belva looked scornfully at the man, who had sunk into a rickety seat, in an attitude of deep despondency. “You are a poor specimen of a man!” she said sneeringly. “Why didn’t you make her stay?” He looked at her a moment doubtfully, then, nettled by her scorn, said, with angry bravado: “I didn’t want to fool with those women, but I’ll make her come back.” “That’s right! Good night.” CHAPTER IX. REPENTING AT LEISURE.