“If a woman had done me such an injury that I wanted to take some horrible vengeance, I think I could devise nothing more subtly cruel than to let her be married to Oliver Haddo.”
“Ah, poor thing, poor thing!” said Arthur. “If I could only suppose she would be happy! The future terrifies me.”
“I wonder if she knew that Haddo had sent that telegram,” said Susie.
“What can it matter?”
She turned to Arthur gravely.
“Do you remember that day, in this studio, when he kicked Margaret’s dog, and you thrashed him? Well, afterwards, when he thought no one saw him, I happened to catch sight of his face. I never saw in my life such malignant hatred. It was the face of a fiend of wickedness. And when he tried to excuse himself there was a cruel gleam in his eyes which terrified me. I warned you; I told you that he had made up his mind to revenge himself, but you laughed at me. And then he seemed to go out of our lives, and I thought no more about it. I wonder why he sent Dr. Porhoët here to-day. He must have known that the doctor would hear of his humiliation, and he may have wished that he should be present at his triumph. I think that very moment he made up his mind to be even with you, and he devised this odious scheme.”
“How could he know that it was possible to carry out such a horrible thing?” said Arthur.
“I wonder if Miss Boyd is right,” murmured the doctor. “After all, if you come to think of it,
