Rosamond Arleigh read the telegram over and over--once, twice, thrice, and her face grew pale as death, while into her dark eyes there crept a look of desperation. She glanced across the crowd of happy faces before her--the merry, care-free throng that filled her brilliant drawing-rooms to overflowing, and her pale face was convulsed with pain, and she set her white teeth into her red under lip until the blood started. “I had nearly forgotten!” she muttered. “Heaven help me, I had almost allowed myself to forget! The time will soon be up--the hour will soon be here when he will come to extort a bitter penalty for that mad mistake of the past. I am brought to bay at last; there is no escape!…
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