So she bore his selfish exactions with a patient, yielding sweetness, and ministered to his caprices with the beautiful devotion of a fireside angel. She was using every sweet persuasion in her power to induce Mr. St. John to execute a will in her favor. She had learned that in the event of his death, without a will, his widow would legally inherit only one-third of his great wealth, while the remaining two-thirds would descend to his next of kin--the next of kin in this case being her enemy, Howard Templeton. Xenie knew that her revenge would not be secure until her husband had made his will and cut off his nephew without a dollar. She had believed that Mr. St. John's infatuation for her would make her task easy, but she had not counted upon the uneasy sense in the old man's mind of a certain injustice done to the nephew he had reared, by his unexpected marriage. "No, no, Xenie," he said, when she openly pleaded with him to make such a will. "It would be unjust to leave poor Howard without a dollar to support himself." "He is a man," said Xenie, scornfully. "He has his head and hands to earn his living." "Yes; but Howard does not know how to work, my darling, and it is all my fault. I brought him up as my heir and refused to let him have a profession or to learn anything useful. You see we are the last of our race, and I expected to leave him everything when I died. I did not know I should meet and marry you, my darling," he said, kissing her fondly, without noticing her uncontrollable shiver of disgust. "Yes, but your marriage alters everything," she said, eagerly, lifting her melting, dark eyes to his face with a siren smile on the curve of her scarlet lips. "You would not wish to leave your money away from me, your poor, helpless little wife?" "There is enough for you both, my dear," he said, persuasively. "Howard might have his share--the smaller share, of course--and you would still be a wealthy woman!" "I hate Howard Templeton!" exclaimed Xenie, with sudden, passionate vehemence. The old man looked at her half angrily. "You hate my nephew?" he said. "Why do you hate him, Xenie, when next to you I love him, best of anyone in the world?" Xenie's sober senses, that had almost deserted her in her sudden gust of passion, returned to her with a gasp. "I--oh, forgive me," she said, with ready penitence, "I spoke foolishly. I do not like you to love him so. I am jealous of you, my darling!" She leaned toward him and laid her white arm around his shoulder caressingly. But suddenly, and even as she lifted her beautiful face for his caress, he drew back his hand, and without a word of warning, struck her a heavy blow across the face. She reeled backward and fell upon the floor, the red blood spurting from her nostrils and from her lips that the terrible blow had driven against the points of her white teeth and terribly lacerated.