Jesse Devereaux admired her; thought her the loveliest girl in the world. Perhaps, even, he was in love with her. That was why he had taken so gladly the dismissal she had so rashly given.
A fever of unavailing regret burned in Roma's veins, the fires of jealous hate gleamed in her flashing eyes.
"I would gladly see her dead at my feet," she cried furiously.
Before she sought her pillow, she had resolved on a plan to forestall Devereaux's courtship.
She would go to-morrow morning to see the wicked old grandmother of Liane; she would have a good excuse, because the old woman had desired the visit, and she would tell her that Devereaux was engaged to herself, and warn her not to permit her granddaughter to accept attentions that could mean nothing but evil. She would even bribe the old woman, if necessary. She was ready to make any sacrifice to punish Jesse for what she called to herself his perfidy, ignoring the fact that she had set him free to woo whom he would.
Granny was tidying up her floor next morning, when a footstep on the threshold made her start and look around at a vision of elegance and beauty framed in sunshine that made the coppery waves of her hair shine lurid red as the girl bowed courteously, saying:
"I am Miss Clarke. Mamma said you wished to see me."
Granny dropped her broom and sank into a chair, staring with dazed eyes at the radiant beauty in her silken gown.
As no invitation to enter was forthcoming, Roma stepped in and seated herself, with a supercilious glance at the shabby surroundings. She thought to herself disdainfully:
"To think of being rivaled in both beauty and love by a low-born girl raised in a hovel!"
Yet she saw that everything was scrupulously clean and neat, as though Liane made the best of what she had.
The old woman, without speaking a word, stared at Roma with eager eyes, as if feasting on her beauty, a tribute to her vanity that pleased Roma well, so she smiled graciously and waited with unwonted patience until granny heaved a long sigh, and exclaimed:
"It is a pleasure to behold you at last, Miss Roma, as a beauty and an heiress! Ah, you must be very happy!"
"Wealth and beauty cannot give happiness when one's lover is fickle, flirting with poor girls at the expense of their reputations."
