The storm raged on with fitful violence till late afternoon, and in the excitement of the day none of the household took note of the fact that Gipsy did not return. Lelia’s trunks had duly arrived, and arraying herself in beautiful garments, she had descended to the parlor to cheer her betrothed, who was looking rather disconsolate in the strange solitude of the country house, which afforded time to dwell at length on the happenings of the morning. His beautiful sweetheart’s ungovernable temper had always been a source of pain to his nobler nature. He had loved Lelia faithfully all his life, chiefly because he had been anxiously tutored to it, and again because she was very beautiful in a radiant blond style, and could be very fascinating when she chose. But he was not blind to her faults of heart and mind. He knew she was violent-tempered, jealous, selfish, and domineering, but he had kept on, trusting to the influence of his own nobler nature to counteract the deformities of her mind, making every possible excuse for a spoiled girl, who had been given her own way in everything, and flattered in society until her vanity and selfishness had distorted her whole nature. But the exhibition of this morning had appalled him, with its possibilities of disaster to his future. He asked himself in alarm what sort of a wife was this fair vixen going to make for a man who loved peace and tranquillity. A heavy sigh breathed over his lips just as Lelia entered, a vision of delight in her stylish gown of blue organdie and white lace, with fluttering ribbons, her golden hair fluffed up like an aureole to frame her pearl-fair face. “Oh, Laurie, how glum you look, my dear! Getting a foretaste already of the horrors of The Crags!” she cried gaily, pausing at his side with her white, ringed hand on his shoulder. “I own I was lonely till you came,” he confessed, slipping his arm about her waist, with secret relief at the brightness of her face, believing her anger had blown over like the storm. “You were sitting here pulling me to pieces in your mind, groaning over my naughtiness. Don’t deny it, your eyes betray your guilt!” she added banteringly. “I cannot help but deplore your high temper, Lelia,” he answered gravely. An expression of repentance saddened her red lips instantly, and she murmured sweetly: “Oh, Laurie darling, you cannot deplore it more than I do. But surely you can overlook this morning. Remember what a fright I had, and that I was nervous and overwrought. Now I feel like myself again, and I wish to beg your pardon for my hasty words.” His answer was like gall and wormwood to her heart: “I do not mind so much for myself, Lelia, as for that poor girl who saved our lives, and whom you insulted by cruel, ungrateful words. If you wish to please me very much you will say to her all that you have just said to me.” She recoiled in angry amazement: