A fine spirit of resolve set her countenance aglow. "You may count on me for action on my part, if circumstances warrant it. I promised not to marry Alan—but not to stand by and see him sacrificed. Tell me how I may communicate secretly with you—and let me go as soon as possible!"
Within the hour Rose Trine stood before her father in that sombre room whose sinister colour-scheme of crimson and black was the true livery of the passion for vengeance that alone kept warm the embers of his deathlike life. Two hours ago she could not have denied him compassion; now she looked down upon him with cold eyes, hardening her heart. When at length he decided to speak, it was with a ring of hateful irony in his strangely sonorous voice.
"Rose, I am told you have been to-day guilty of an act of disloyalty."
She said coolly: "You had me spied upon."
"Naturally, I had you watched."
She dropped an impassive monosyllable: "Well?"
"You have visited the servant and friend of the man I hate—and you love."
She said, without expression: "Yes."
"Repeat what passed between you."
"I shall not, but on one condition."
"And that is?"
