Her play contained many passages which afforded her scope for the manifestation of her extraordinary power, and at its close the people would not depart until she had appeared in acknowledgment of their plaudits.

Brilliantly beautiful she looked, with the glittering light of triumph in her large mesmeric eyes, a rich glow mantling her cheeks, and rouging her lips; while in heavy folds the black velvet robe swept around her queenly figure.  How stately, elegant, unapproachable she seemed to the man who leaned forward, gazing with all his heart in his eyes upon the wife of his youth, the only woman he had ever really loved, now his most implacable foe!

The audience dispersed, and Cuthbert and his father sat like those old Roman Senators, awaiting the breaking of the wave of savage vengeance that was rolling in upon them.

At length General Laurance struggled to his feet, and mechanically quitted the theatre, followed by his son.  Reaching the carriage, they entered, and Cuthbert ordered the coachman to drive to Mrs. Orme’s hotel.

“Not now!  For God’s sake, not to-night,” groaned the old man.

“To-night, before another hour, this awful imposture must be confessed, and reparation offered.  I sinned against Minnie, but not premeditatedly.  You deceived me.  You made me believe her the foul, guilty thing you wished her.  You intercepted her letters, you never let me know that I had a child neglected and forsaken; and, father, God may forgive you, but I never can.  My proud, lovely Minnie!  My own wife!”

Cuthbert buried his face in his hands, and his strong frame shook as he pictured what might have been, contrasting it with the hideous reality of his loveless and miserable marriage with the banker’s daughter, who threatened him with social disgrace.

During that drive General Laurance felt that he was approaching some offended and avenging Fury, that he was drifting down to ruin, powerless to lift his hand and stay even for an instant the fatal descent; that he was gradually petrifying, and things seemed vague and intangible.

When they reached the hotel, they were ushered into the salon already brilliantly lighted as if in expectation of their arrival.  Cuthbert paced the floor; his father sank into a chair, resting his hands on the top of his cane.

After a little while, a silk curtain at the lower end of the room was lifted, and Mrs. Orme came slowly forward.  How her lustrous eyes gleamed as she stood in the centre of the apartment, scorn, triumph, hate, all struggling for mastery in her lovely face.

“Gentlemen, you have read the handwriting on the wall.  Do you come for defiance, or capitulation?”

General Laurance lifted his head, but instantly dropped it on his bosom; he seemed to have aged suddenly, prematurely.  Cuthbert advanced, stood close beside the woman whose gaze intensified as he drew near her, and said brokenly: