Had anything been wanting to perfect Richard’s wrath, that allusion to an “old maid” would have done it.  It was the drop in the brimming bucket, and Richard exploded at once, hurling such language at Ethelyn’s head that, white and scared, and panting for breath, she put up both her hands to ward off the storm, and asked what it all meant.  Richard had locked the door, the only entrance to their room, and stooping over Ethelyn he hissed into her ear his meaning, telling her all he had heard from Harry Clifford, and asking if it were true.  Ere Ethelyn could reply there was a knock at the door, and a servant’s voice called out, “Carriage waiting for Mrs. Markham.”

It was the carriage sent by Mrs. Miller for Ethelyn, and quick as thought Richard stepped to the door, and unlocking it, said hastily, “Give Mrs. Miller Mrs. Markham’s compliments, and say she cannot be present to-night.  Tell her she regrets it exceedingly”; and Richard’s voice was very bitter and sarcastic in its tone as he closed the door upon the astonished waiter; and relocking it, he returned again to Ethelyn, who had risen to her feet, and with a different expression upon her face from the white, scared look it had worn at first, stood confronting him fearlessly now, and even defiantly, for this bold step had roused her from her apathy; and in a fierce whisper, which, nevertheless, was as clear and distinct as the loudest tones could have been; she asked, “Am I to understand that I am a prisoner here in my own room?  It is your intention to keep me from the party?”

“It is,” and with his back against the door, as if doubly to bar her egress, Richard regarded her gloomily, while he charged her with the special reason why she wished to go.  “It was to meet Frank Van Buren, your former lover,” he said, asking if she could deny it.

For a moment Ethelyn stood irresolute, mentally going over all that would be said if she stayed from Mrs. Miller’s, where she was to be the prominent one, and calculating her strength to stem the tide of wonder and conjecture as to her absence which was sure to follow.  She could not meet it, she decided; she must go, at all hazards, even if, to achieve her purpose, she made some concessions to the man who had denounced her so harshly, and used such language as is not easily forgotten.

“Richard,” she began, and her eyes had a strange glittering light in them, “with regard to the past I shall say nothing now, but that Frank was here in Camden I had not the slightest knowledge till I heard it from you.  Believe me, Richard, and let me go.  My absence will seem very strange, and cause a great deal of remark.  Another time I may explain what would best have been explained before.”