st, but keep her on the jump until he had
worn her out, and then close with her.

XXII

The situation was becoming intolerable. Something must be done and done
at once to clear the atmosphere. Captain Forest's apparent indifference
to all things, including herself, aroused Blanch to a pitch of
exasperation which might best be likened to that of a high-strung,
thoroughbred horse that has been ignominiously hitched to a plow and
compelled to drag it. At the end of a week he either drops dead in the
furrow or becomes a broken-spirited hack for the rest of his days.

Nothing short of love or hatred could satisfy her. It was a new
experience. Never had she suffered such ignominy. It was like being
coerced. One could respect an enemy, but this exasperating indifference
was unendurable. The more she thought of it, the more convinced she
became, that it was just such an antagonistic attitude which had
prompted the beautiful, though wicked Borgia, to administer certain love
potions to numerous unappreciative gallants. Deliberate, cold-blooded
murder committed under such extenuating circumstances began to appear
more in the light of justice than of crime.

Captain Forest offered an entirely new front. Not that he had changed so
much, she knew better than that, but she marveled at his self-control.
The dash and spirit of the soldier, which every one admired so much in
him, had given way to the most insulting, good-humored complacency; the
frame of mind one looks for in an aged sinner whose terror of an
uncertain future has driven him to prepare for heaven. She knew well
enough that his attitude was assumed for a purpose only, until he had
made up his mind what to do; waiting to make up his mind as to which of
them, she or Chiquita, was preferable. This, of course, was merely a
jealous supposition on her part.

She had hoped to arouse his jealousy, or, failing in that, at least his
enthusiasm. Thus far she had failed to accomplish either and she could
not understand it. Surely he was flesh and blood like other men, yet
nothing seemed to move him. He appeared like one at peace with all the
world, calm and serene as a summer's day, and smoked incessantly. She
could endure it no longer. The depression from which she suffered was
crushing her slowly and irresistibly to earth. She was at her wits' end
to know what to do to relieve the tension, until she finally hit upon
the idea of giving an old-fashioned Spanish _fandango_