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"Perfectly" — the girl shuddered, and a glint of vengeance came into her eyes that was reflected a hundredfold in those of her companion — "my mother — died."
"Was killed," corrected the man. "I remember that your little hand touched the fresh wound above her heart."
"But, father, why speak of it — now —here?"
"Because, daughter, tonight begins the sequel." He leaned over the table and laid his hand, almost pleadingly, on her fair arm. "You remember all —allf"
In the excitement of the moment, Beatrice had not noticed the party of three men who had come and taken their seats at the table in the center of the room, which, evidently, had been reserved for them as a mark of distinction.
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On the contrary, the man's eyes had covertly observed their entrance, and had kindled anew. "A man had poisoned my life's happiness," he continued ; " a man had come between me and my love for your mother, and, at length, the same man destroyed her. That man is free today — tonight."
The girl's eyes, too, had, at length, rested on the group of men at the near-by table. At her father's last words, she swung around. "Free? Strange; I had always thought him dead, as he deserved. Why did you
not ?" she looked at her father
almost accusingly.
"In instantaneous death there is no suffering to speak of. I have planned for twelve long years that this man shall taste some of the cruel, writhing tortures of the heart and soul that have been visited upon me. I have been waiting for you to help me."