“Annoy him; I--it is not true! Do I annoy you?” pleaded Jessie tremulously, turning to the young man whose handsome face twitched with pain as he answered impatiently: “My dear Miss Lyndon, this is very strange on your part! To come bursting into the room like this. What is the matter?” To the day of his death he would never forget what happened in that room after his cold and haughty reception of little Jessie. CHAPTER X. THE ENDING OF HER LOVE DREAM. Laurier, startled, dismayed, and angered by Jessie’s sensational entrance, had spoken to her more harshly and hastily than if he had taken second thought. The hateful, mocking laugh from Cora Ellyson accentuated his words, and Mrs. Dalrymple, who had paused just inside the door, gazed in wonder at the strange scene. Instantly Jessie sprang to her feet. She stood still a moment, looking at him with wounded love, doubt, fear, incredulity, all struggling together in her great, soft, dark eyes like a dying fawn’s. Again Cora Ellyson laughed, low and mockingly--a hateful, significant laugh that made Frank Laurier exclaim rebukingly: “Hush, Cora, you are unjust!” Then he looked at Jessie pityingly. He wished that he were not lame that he might fly from the room to avoid the plaintive reproaches of the one girl and the jealous fury of the other. Mrs. Dalrymple, who had drawn gradually nearer and nearer, was listening with a face drawn with deep emotion, but again Cora Ellyson’s scornful laugh rang through the room, and before Jessie could speak again, she cried mockingly: “Pshaw, Frank, why not tell her the plain truth as you were telling me before she came in when we made up our silly lovers’ quarrel? Listen, Miss Lyndon; it was this way.” “Hush, Cora, do not wound her so!” he entreated, but she advanced and stood close by him, silencing him by an imperious gesture, her rich silken robes rustling, her jewels flashing, her proud, dark head lifted haughtily as she surveyed her shrinking rival, poor Jessie, in her worn, shabby garments and broken shoes. “It was this way, Miss Lyndon: Frank Laurier and I were plighted lovers until three days ago, when we had a foolish little lovers’ quarrel and parted, vowing never to meet again. But our wedding day was but a few days off, and as soon as we separated both began to repent, but were too proud to say so. Is not this true, Frank?” “Yes--but do not wound the child’s heart by telling her the rest,” he implored, almost inaudibly. “Nonsense!” she answered lightly, and added: “This is the rest, Miss Jessie Lyndon. Frank saw you, and, struck with your pretty face, decided to pique me into a reconciliation by flirting with you. Hence the drive in the park that resulted as he wished, in the making-up of our little difference to-day, and I assure you that but for your intrusion here this evening, he would never have given you another thought!”