The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. But his daughter might well have a claim. It was an impulse. . She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. Murder had become nothing to her. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. . Enfeebled by his wound, Wild had lost much of his strength, though nothing of his ferocity and energy,—and fiercely assailing Blueskin, he made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to apprehend him. “It—it—must come,” she faltered.
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