"That I am going to marry my nephew to Miss Wayland--yes. She is very rich, and he, well, the poor fellow, you know, Xenie, always expected to be my heir. And now, since my marriage, of course his prospects are entirely altered. He cannot expect much from me now. But I'm going to set him up with a few thousands, and marry him to the heiress. That's almost as well as leaving him my money--isn't it?" he laughed. "I've spoken to Howard about it, and he is pleased with the idea. There will be no difficulty with her, I am sure. Howard was always a lucky dog among the girls." He laughed, and rubbed his withered palms softly together, and Xenie sat perfectly silent, her brain in a whirl, her pulse beating at fever heat. Was this old man, whom she hated because his despotic will had blasted her brief dream of happiness, to despoil her of her revenge for which she had dared and risked so much? And Howard Templeton--was her oath of vengeance of no avail, that fortune should make him her spoiled darling still? The waltz music ceased with a great, passionate crash of melody, and the gentlemen led their partners to their seats. Mr. St. John resigned his seat to Edith Wayland, and moved away on the arm of his nephew. "What a handsome man Mr. Templeton is," said the lovely girl shyly to Mrs. St. John. The bride looked after his retreating figure with a curl of her scarlet lip. "Yes, he is as handsome as a Greek god," she said, "but then, he is utterly heartless--a mere fortune-hunter." "Oh! Mrs. St. John, surely not," said Miss Wayland, in an anxious tone. "Why should you think so?" "Perhaps it would suit you as well not to hear," said Mrs. St. John, with an arch insinuation in her look and tone. "By no means. Pray tell me your reasons for what you said, Mrs. St. John," said the sweet, blue-eyed girl, blushing very much, and nervously fluttering her white satin fan. "Well, since you are not particularly interested in him, I will tell you," was the careless reply. "I was engaged to Mr. Templeton myself, two winters ago--when I first came out, you know, dear! I suppose he thought I was wealthy, for Aunt Egerton dressed me elegantly, and lent me her diamonds. The summer after our engagement he came to the country to see me, and then he found out my poverty--for I will tell you candidly, Edith, my people are as poor as church mice--and, would you believe it? he went back and wrote me a letter, and told me he could not afford to marry for love--he must have an heiress or none. So our little affair was all over with then, you know." She paused and looked away, for she knew that she had stabbed the girl's heart deeply, and she did not wish to witness the pain she had inflicted. In a moment, however, Miss Wayland exclaimed, indignantly: "Oh! Mrs. St. John, is it possible that Mr. Templeton could have treated you so cruelly and heartlessly?"