Thorne’s heart grew hot; angry blood surged from it and inflamed his system; every nerve tingled; his eyes glowed, and his fingers tightened on the barrel of the gun beside him.  His consciousness of antagonism grew so intense that it seemed to annihilate space and materialize his distant rival into an actual presence; his feeling was that which animates brutes when they lock horns, or fly at each other’s throats; and, could the emotional force which swayed his soul have been converted into physical force and projected through space, Jim would never have seen the light of another day.

Poor Thorne!  If suffering may be pleaded in extenuation of moods whose cause is mingled love and pain, he certainly was not without excuse.  Imagination, wounded by jealousy, leaped forward into the future and ranged amid possibilities that made him quiver—­noble, beautiful possibilities, filled with joy and light and sweetness—­and filled for his rival—­not for him.  As in a mirror he beheld his love in his rival’s arms, resting on his bosom, as an hour ago she had rested on his own; only in this man’s embrace, he pictured her glowing, sentient, responsive to look and caress; not cold, lifeless and inanimate.  Should this thing be?  No! a thousand times no!  Must he always have a stone for bread?  Must his garners always stand empty while other men’s overflowed with corn?

Deeply the man cursed his past folly; bitterly he anathematized the weakness which had allowed shadowy scruples and a too fastidious taste to rule his judgment in the matter of a divorce.  He would wait no longer; he would break at once and forever the frail fetter that still bound him to a union from which all reality, all sanctity had fled.  He would be free in fact, as he was in heart and thought, to pit his strength against that of his rival.  This prize should not slip from his grasp uncontested.  No man should approach the shrine unchallenged.

The wind rose, sighing fitfully; the clouds gathered and formed an army which stormed the zenith and threatened to overwhelm the pure light of the planet.  The lesser stars vanished, two or three falling in their haste and losing themselves forever in infinity.  The night thickened; snow began to fall.

CHAPTER X.

The Christmas festivities were to close on New Year’s Eve with a grand ball at Shirley.  It was to be a sumptuous affair with unlimited Chinese lanterns, handsome decorations, a magnificent supper, and a band from Washington.  The Smiths were going to requite the neighborhood’s hospitality with the beating of drums, the clashing of cymbals, and the flowing of champagne.  This cordial friendly people had welcomed them kindly, and must have their courtesy returned in fitting style.  Mrs. Smith suggested a simpler entertainment, fearing contrast, and any appearance of ostentation, but the general gauged his neighbors better.  They were at once