"You slander an honorable gentleman," said Ruth, controlling herself with a great effort.
"Do I? Ask the Lady Rose, if she ever stoops to speak to you."
"She is a sweet, gracious lady," broke in Ruth, magnanimous in her swift jealousy. "A great lady, who refuses speech or smile to no one."
"Ask her, then, who was out on the terrace this evening, before he came home, robbing the great stone vases of their sweetest flowers for his b.u.t.ton-hole!"
Ruth lifted one hand to her bosom, and pressed the golden ring there close to her heart.
Then turning to the young man, who was watching her keenly, she said, with composure:
"Well, why should you or I ask such questions of the young lady? I would no more do that than spy upon her, as you have done!"
Storms looked at her keenly from under his bent brows, and his thin lips closed with a baffled expression.
"Off the scent," he thought. "What is it? She was hot on the chase just now. Has she really doubled on him?"
"It needs no spying to see what goes on up there," he answered, after a moment, waving his head toward the great house. "Grand people like them think we have neither eyes nor ears. They pay us for being without them, and think we earn our wages like dumb cattle. Just as if sharpness went with money. But we do see and hear, when they would be glad to think us blind and dumb!"
The girl made no answer. She longed to question the creature she despised, and had a fierce struggle with her heart, until more honorable feelings put down the swift cravings of jealousy that were wounding her heart, as bees sting a flower while rifling it of honey.
The young man watched her cunningly, but failed to understand her. The jealousy which made him so cruel had no similitude with her finer and keener feelings. He longed to see her break out in a tirade of abuse, or to have her question him broadly, as he wished to answer.
Ruth did nothing of the kind. In the tumult of feelings aroused by his words she remembered all that had been done that day, and, with sudden vividness of recollection, the promise of caution she had made to her husband.
Her husband! She pressed her hand against her bosom, where the wedding-ring lay hid, and a glorified expression came to her face as she turned it toward the firelight, absolutely forgetful that a hateful intruder shared it with her.
Richard Storms was baffled, and a little saddened by the strange beauty in the face his eyes were searching.
"Ruth!" he said at length. "Ruth!"
The girl started. His voice had dragged her out of a dream of heaven.
She looked around vaguely on finding herself on earth again, and with him.
"Well," she said, impatiently, "what would you say to me?"
"Just this: when is it to be? I am really tired of waiting."
"Tired of waiting!" said Ruth, impatiently. "Waiting for what?"
"Why, for our wedding-day. What else?"
The proud blood of an empress seemed to flame up into the girl"s face; a smile, half rage, half scorn, curved her lips, which, finally, relaxed into a clear, ringing laugh.
"You--you think to marry me!" was her broken exclamation, as the untoward laugh died out.
The young man turned fiery red. The scornfulness of that laugh stung him, and he returned it with interest.
"No wonder you ask," he said, with a sharp, venomous look, from which she shrunk instinctively. "It isn"t every honest man that would hold to his bargain, after all these galivantings with the young master."
Ruth turned white as snow, and caught hold of a chair for support. Her evident terror seemed to appease the tormentor, and he continued, with a relenting laugh, "Don"t be put about, though. I"m too fond to be jealous, because my sweetheart takes a turn now and then in the moonlight when she thinks no one is looking."
"Your sweetheart! Yours!"
Storms waved his hand, and went on.
"Though, mind me, all this must stop when we"re married."
Ruth had no disposition to laugh now. The very mention of Hurst had made a coward of her. Storms saw how pale she was, and came toward her.
"There, now, give us a kiss, and make up. It"s all settled between father and the old man, so just be conformable, and I"ll say nothing about the young master."
As the young man came toward her, with his arms extended, Ruth drew back, step by step, with such fright and loathing in her eyes that his temper rose again. With startling suddenness he gave a leap, and, flinging one arm around her, attempted to force her averted face to his.
One sharp cry, one look, and Ruth fell to the floor, quivering like a shot bird.
She had seen the door open, and caught one glimpse of her husband"s face. Then a powerful blow followed, and Richard Storms went reeling across the kitchen, and struck with a crash against the opposite wall.
Ruth remembered afterward, as one takes up the painful visions of a dream, the deadly venom of those eyes; the gray whiteness of that aquiline face; the specks of foam that flew from those half-open lips.
She saw, too, the slow retreat during which those threatening features were turned upon her husband. Then all was blank--she had fainted away.
For some moments it seemed as if the girl were dead, she lay so limp and helpless on her husband"s bosom; but the burning words that rose from his lips, the kisses he rained down upon hers, brought a stir of life back to her heart. Awaking with a dim sense of danger, she clung to him, shivering and in tears.
"Where is he? Oh, Walton! is he gone?"
"Gone, the hound! Yes, darling, to his kennel."
"Ah, how he frightened me!"
"But how dare he enter this house?"
"I cannot tell--only--only my father has not come home yet. Oh, I--I hate him. He frightens me. He threatens me."
"Threatens you! When? How?"
"Oh, Walton! he has seen us together. He will bring you into trouble."
"Not easily."
"Your father?"
"Is not a man to listen to the gossip of his servants."
Ruth drew a deep breath. Walton had concealed his real anxiety so well, that her own fears were calmed.
"Come, come," he said; "we must not let this hind embitter the few minutes I can spend with you. Look up, love, and tell me that you are better."
"Oh! I am; but he frightened me so."