"More liberal than you deserve. An annuity larger than anything you ever had before you married me, a house up the Hudson, and your promise never to return to New York. With my death, the annuity will cease, and you will be penniless. I don't choose to be put out of the way by you or your poisoning cousin."

Blanche Walraven's eyes flashed fury.

"You are a merciless, iron-hearted man, Carl Walraven, and I hate you!

I close with your terms, because I can not help myself; but I'll have revenge yet!"

"And the very first attempt you make," said Mr. Walraven, coolly, "I'll hand you over to the law as I would the commonest vagrant that prowls the streets. Don't think to intimidate me, my lady, with your tragedy airs and fiery glances. Mr. Sardonyx will wait upon you this afternoon.

If you can make it convenient to leave to-morrow, you will very much oblige me."

His last words were almost lost. Mrs. Walraven, with a hysterical scream, had fallen back among the pillows in strong convulsions. He just stopped to give one backward glance of pitiless loathing, then rang for her maid and left the room.

And so parted the ill-a.s.sorted husband and wife to meet no more. So ended one mercenary marriage.

Carl Walraven went down-stairs, and found Mollie uneasily awaiting him.

"It's all settled, Mollie," he said. "You are the little mistress of the house from this day forward, until"--looking at her earnestly--"you get married."

Mollie reddened and shook her head.

"I shall never get married, guardy."

"No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?"

"Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it, guardy. What did Mrs. Walraven say?"

"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, either."

"But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?"

"I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes--that's flat! I wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say another word about it we'll quarrel."

He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough.

"I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, not the woman. It's a shame to make her suffer and let that horrible doctor off scot-free."

Mr. Walraven, in his study, meantime, had written a letter to Lawyer Sardonyx, detailing in brief his wishes, and requesting him to call upon Mrs. Walraven in the course of the day. That done, he quitted the house, determined to return no more until she had left.

The afternoon brought Hugh Ingelow. Mollie was alone in her room, having a very anxious time; but when his name was announced, she dropped the book she was trying to read and made a headlong rush down-stairs. If Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could hardly have been insensible to their flattering import.

Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as he shook hands.

"I never saw you looking better," he said, with earnest admiration.

"Looks are deceitful, then," said Mollie, shaking her early head dolefully. "I don't think I ever felt worse, even when cooped up in Doctor Oleander's prison."

"Really! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired.

"Everything dreadful! The most shocking tempests in tea-pots. Guardy is going to separate from his wife!"

"Indeed!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best thing he could do."

"Oh, Mr. Ingelow!"

"Quite true, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a Tartar. He committed a terrible act of folly when he married her; let him show his return to wisdom by sending her adrift. I don't pity her in the least.

If he forgave her this time, she would simply despise him, and begin her machinations all over again."

"No! Do you think so? Then I'm not to blame?"

"You!" Mr. Ingelow laughed. "I should think not, indeed! Set that tender little heart of yours at rest, Mollie. Blanche Walraven is big and fierce, and able to take care of herself. Let us get rid of her quietly; if we can, and be thankful."

"Mr. Sardonyx is with her now," said Mollie, "arranging matters. Oh, dear! I can't help feeling nervous and troubled about it. It's not fair to punish her and let Doctor Oleander go off scot-free."

"His punishment is his detection and your loss, Mollie. I can think of no heavier punishment than that. I met him, by the bye, in Broadway, as large as life, and as impudent as the gentleman with the cloven foot. He bowed, and I stared, and cut him dead, of course."

Before Mollie could speak, the door-bell rang. A moment later and there was the sound of an altercation in the hall.

"You can't see Miss Dane, you ragam.u.f.fin!" exclaimed the mellifluous tones of footman Wilson. "You hadn't oughter ring the door-bell! The airy's for such as you!"

"It is Miriam!" cried Mollie, running to the door. "It is surely Miriam at last!"

But it was not Miriam. It was a dirty-faced boy--a tatter-demalion of fourteen years--with sharp, knowing black eyes. Those intelligent orbs fixed on the young lady at once.

"Be you Miss Dane--Miss Mollie Dane--miss?"

"Yes," said Mollie. "Who are you?"

"Sammy Slimmens, miss. Miss Miriam sent me, miss--she did."

"Miriam? Are you sure? Why didn't she come herself?"

"Couldn't, miss," nodding sagaciously. "She's very bad, she is. Got runned over, miss."

"Run over!" Mollie cried, in horror.

"Corner Fulton Street, miss, and Broadway. Yesterday morning 'twas. I told the policeman where she lived, and he fetched her home. Won't live, they say, and she's sent for you. Got something very 'ticular to tell you, miss."

"I will go at once," Mollie said, unutterably distressed. "My poor Miriam! I might have known something had happened, or she would have been here before this."

She flew upstairs and was back again, dressed for the street, in ten minutes.

"Permit me to accompany you, Miss Dane," said Hugh Ingelow, stepping forward. "You have been entrapped before. We will be on our guard this time. Now, my man," to the hero of the rags and tatters, "lead on; we follow."

The boy darted away, and Mr. Ingelow with Mollie's hand drawn through his arm, set off after him at a rapid rate.

CHAPTER XXVI.