"What Lucia said of you? Well, it was this. 'Beware of Miss Muir. We
instinctively distrusted her when we had no cause. I believe in
instincts, and mine have never changed, for she has not tried to delude
me. Her art is wonderful; I feel yet cannot explain or detect it, except
in the working of events which her hand seems to guide. She has brought
sorrow and dissension into this hitherto happy family. We are all
changed, and this girl has done it. Me she can harm no further; you she
will ruin, if she can. Beware of her in tune, or you win bitterly repent
your blind infatuation!'"
"And what answer did you make?" asked Jean, as the last words came
reluctantly from Coventry's lips.
"I told her that I loved you in spite of myself, and would make you my
wife in the face of all opposition. Now, Jean, your answer."
"Give me three days to think of it. Good night." And gliding from him,
she vanished into the house, leaving him to roam about half the night,
tormented with remorse, suspense, and the old distrust which would
return when Jean was not there to banish it by her art.