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<h3>Chapter Twenty Five.</h3> <h4>High Words.</h4> Looking again in the direction of the hand, but telling herself that it was fancy, Lydia sat down to wait anxiously for the doctor’s return, while Capel went on, talking more or less incoherently. “You know I love you,” he said softly. “Katrine—darling—you will be my wife. Let the world go its own way, what is it to us?” Lydia’s head sank lower, as the tears of misery began to fall fast. “The treasure,” he cried, suddenly. “Ha—ha—ha! Let them search for it—months—years. They will never find it. I have it safely. Here. I’ll tell you.” He beckoned with his finger as he talked on, rapidly; and as Lydia raised her saddened countenance, she saw that he was gazing at vacancy and gesticulating with his free hand. “Yes; I’ll tell you,” he said. “Let the fools hunt. They’ll never find it. Well? Why not? It is mine. Look. You count along here—do you see—one, eight, six, now press in the key. There is a spring. Press it home and turn. The door opens and there it is. For you, dearest—the jewels are all your own.” As he went on talking rapidly, the curtain moved softly again, and this time Lydia felt that it was no trick of the light or wind, and, rising from her seat, she went softly round to the other side of the bed, took hold of the curtain and swept it aside, to leave Katrine standing there in the faint light shed by the shaded lamp. “What are you doing here?” “I came to see if I could help you.” “And glided in like a thief, to hide there, listening to his words. What is it you want to know? Was it to hear him say he loved you?” whispered Lydia, with her face full of scorn. “I do not understand you.” “You do understand. And it was not for that. You have heard him whisper to you—no—waste upon you loving words enough.” “Really,” said Katrine, who had recovered from her temporary confusion, consequent upon the abrupt discovery of her presence. “Surely, my darling little Lydia is not jealous?” “Jealous? Of you?” said Lydia, scornfully. “No; I am only sorry that he should have been so blind.” “To your incomparable charms?” “No; to the character of the beautiful woman—” “Beautiful?” “Yes; beautiful woman, whose character—” “How dare you!” cried Katrine, and she struck the brave girl a sharp blow across the face with her open hand. “Beautiful as you are corrupt and cruel,” said Lydia, without wincing. “I have not been blind. I have seen your efforts to lead him on—to tempt him into the belief that you loved him, when your sole thought has been of the money that was to be his.” “It is false,” cried Katrine. “It is true. I would not stoop to watch you, but I have seen enough to know you. Go back to your companion—the man who plots and plans with you to gain what you will never find, and do not—” “Do not what?” cried Katrine, with a malignant look. Lydia did not reply, but hurried back to where Capel was trying to raise himself up, trembling the while, as he gazed towards the window. “Look,” he said harshly. “There. Don’t stop, Katrine, love. There is danger. Don’t stop now.” Katrine’s face wore a strange waxen hue, as she caught the sick man’s hand. The painful position was brought to an end by the coming of the doctors. Katrine’s quick ear was the first to give her warning of their approach, and without another word she softly left the room, stealing away so quietly that when Dr Heston entered, ushering in the great physician, Lydia hardly realised that she was alone. “Still the same,” said Dr Heston. “Humph, yes. My dear madam, will you permit me?” Lydia looked piteously in his face, losing her self-command the while, as Heston led her from the room, and closed the door, while as she heard it locked on the inside and the sound of the rings passing over the rod, she sank down sobbing on the lion-skin rug, burying her face in her hands, and ignorant of the fact that she was being watched. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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