"Xenie, this is the turning-point in your life. Two paths lay before you. Choose the right one and all will go well with you. Peace and happiness will be yours. But choose the evil path and the finger of scorn will one day be pointed at you so that you will not dare to lift your eyes for shame." In her dream Xenie thought that she threw off her enemy's hand with scorn and loathing. Then it seemed to her that he gathered her up in his arms and was about to cast her into the deep, terrible sea, when she awoke with a great start, and found herself struggling in the arms of her mother, who had lifted her out of the chair, and was saying, impatiently: "Xenie, Xenie! child, wake up. You will get your death of cold sleeping out here in the damp night air, and the wind and moisture from the sea blowing over you." Xenie shook herself free from her mother's grasp, and looked around her for her deadly foe, so real had seemed her dream. But she saw no tall, proud, manly form, no handsome, blonde face gazing down upon her as she looked. There was only the cold, white moonlight lying in silvery bars on the floor, and her mother still shaking her by the arm. "Xenie, Xenie, wake up," she reiterated. "Here I have been shaking and shaking you, and all in vain. You slept like the dead." "Mamma, I was dreaming," said Mrs. St. John, coming back to herself with a start. "What is the matter? What is the matter? Is my sister worse?" Mrs. Carroll took her daughter's hand and drew her inside the hallway, then shut and locked the door. "No, Xenie," she said, abruptly, "Lora is not worse--she is better. Are you awake? Do you know what I am saying? Lora has a beautiful son." "Oh, mamma, it was but a minute ago that I went out on the veranda." Mrs. Carroll laughed softly. "Oh, no, my dear. It was several hours ago. You have been asleep a long time. It is nearly midnight." "And Lora really has a son, mamma?" "Yes, Xenie: the finest little fellow I ever saw." "You promised to call me if she became worse and you needed me," said Mrs. St. John, reproachfully. "I did not need you, dear. I did everything for Lora my own self," said Mrs. Carroll, with a sort of tender pride in her voice. "And she is doing well? I may see her--and the baby--my little son!" exclaimed Xenie, with a sudden ring of triumph in her voice. "Yes, she is doing well; a little flighty now and then, and very weak; she could not bear the least excitement. But you shall go to her in a minute. She wished it." They went into the dimly-lighted, quiet room, and Xenie kissed her sister and cried over her very softly. Then she took the bundle of warm flannel out of Lora's arms and uncovered a red and wrinkled little face. "Why, mamma, you said it was beautiful," she said, disappointedly; "and I am bound to confess that, to me, it looks like a very old and wrinkled little man." Mrs. Carroll laughed very softly.