"
By this time the household, aroused by my hurried exit with the candle,
came toward the arbor. The moment Edward appeared Felipa rolled herself
up like a hedgehog again and refused to speak. But the old grandmother
knelt down and drew the little crouching figure into her arms with
gentle tenderness, smoothing its hair and murmuring loving words in her
soft dialect.
"What is it?" said Edward; but even then his eyes were devouring
Christine, who stood in the dark, vine-wreathed doorway like a picture
in a frame. I explained.
Christine smiled softly. "Jealousy," she said in a low voice. "I am not
surprised." And of her own accord she gave back to Edward one of his
looks.
But at the first sound of her voice Felipa had started up: she too saw
the look, and wrenching herself free from old Dominga's arms, she threw
herself at Christine's feet. "Look at _me_ so," she cried--"me too: do
not look at him. He has forgotten poor Felipa: he does not love her any
more. But _you_ do not forget, senora: _you_ love me--_you_ love me. Say
you do or I shall die!"
We were all shocked by the pallor and the wild hungry look of her
uplifted face. Edward bent down and tried to lift her in his arms, but
when she saw him a sudden fierceness came into her eyes: they shot out
yellow light and seemed to narrow to a point of flame. Before we knew it
she had turned, seized something and plunged it into his encircling arm.
It was my little Venetian dagger.
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