"Yes, once I loved him," she said, with a tone of bitter self-scorn. "But listen to me, Lora. Suppose Jack had treated you as Howard Templeton did me?" "Jack could not have done it; he loved me too truly," said Lora, lifting her head in unconscious pride. "You are right, Lora, Jack Mainwaring could not have done it. Few men could have been so base," said Xenie, bitterly. "But, Lora, dear, suppose he _had_ treated you so cruelly--mind, I only say suppose--should you not have hated him for it, and wanted to make his heart ache in return?" Lora was silent a moment. The beautiful young face, so like Xenie's in outline and coloring, so different in its expression of mournful despair, took on an expression of deep tenderness and gentleness as she said, at length: "No Xenie, I could not have hated Jack even if he had acted like Mr. Templeton. I am very poor-spirited perhaps; but I believe if Jack had treated me so I might have hated the sin, but I could not have helped loving the sinner." "Ah, Lora, you do not know how you would have felt in such a case. You have been mercifully spared the trial. Let us drop the subject," answered Xenie, a little shortly. Lora sighed wearily and turned her head away, throwing her black-bordered handkerchief over her face. Her sister stood still a moment, watching the quiet, recumbent figure, then went to the window, and, drawing the lace curtains aside, stood silently looking out at the beautiful sea, with the sunset glories reflected in the opalescent waves, the soft, spring breeze fluttering the silken rings of dark hair that shaded her broad, white brow. As she stood there in the soft sunset light in her bright young beauty and rich attire, a smile of proud triumph curved her scarlet lips. "Ah, Howard Templeton," she mused, "the hour of my triumph is close at hand." And then, in a gentler tone, while a shade of anxiety clouded her face, she added: "But poor little Lora! Pray God all may go well with her!" The roseate hues of sunset faded slowly out, and the purple twilight began to obscure everything. One by one the little stars sparkled out and took their wonted places in the bright constellations of Heaven. Still Xenie remained motionless at the window, and still Lora lay quietly on her couch, her pale, anguished young face hidden beneath the mourning handkerchief. Her sister turned around once and looked at her, thinking she was asleep. But suddenly in the darkness that began to pervade the room, Xenie caught a faint and smothered moan of pain. Instantly she hurried to Lora's side. "My dear, are you in pain?" she said. Lora raised herself and looked at Xenie's anxious face. "I--oh, yes, dear," she said, in a frightened tone; "I am ill. Pray go and send mother to me." Mrs. St. John pressed a tender kiss on the pain-drawn lips and hurried out to seek her mother.