"I longed to speak of this curious phenomenon to some one, but had no
friend. My best friend, Nighthawk, was alienated from me, and
Mademoiselle had been the cause. From the first moment of our
acquaintance, Nighthawk had seemed to suspect something. He did not
attempt to conceal his dislike of Mortimer and the young lady. Why was
that? I could not tell. Your dog growls when the secret foe approaches
you, smiling, and, perhaps, Nighthawk, my faithful retainer, had
something of the watch dog in him.
"Certain it is that he had witnessed my growing intimacy with Miss
Mortimer, with ill-concealed distaste. As I became more and more
attentive, he became almost sour toward me. When I asked him the
meaning of his singular deportment, he shook his head--and then, with
flushed cheeks and eyes, exclaimed: 'do not marry this young person,
sir! something bad will come of it!' When he said that, I looked at him
with haughty surprise--and this sentiment changed in a few moments to
cold anger. 'Leave this house,' I said, 'and do not return until you
have learned how to treat me with decent respect!' He looked at me for
a moment, clasped his hands, opened his lips--seemed about to burst
forth into passionate entreaty--but all at once, shaking his head, went
out in silence. I looked after him with a strange shrinking of the
heart.
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