Ernest Noel, having always admired beautiful Cora at a distance, was now brought into more intimate relations with her by the errand on which he had gone for Laurier, and the young girl, not averse to a little flirtation to relieve the tedium of waiting her lover’s recovery, smilingly encouraged his frank advances. It became the customary thing to call every evening and report Laurier’s progress on the road to recovery to his fair betrothed. No secret was made of these calls to Laurier, who each morning received an enthusiastic description of how Cora had looked and acted and the flippant messages she had sent her lover. Believing that she was arousing Laurier’s jealousy, as she had often done before, and thus increasing the fervor of his love, she rested secure, though secretly burning with anxiety to see him again, and only deterred from a visit to him by the rooted determination to pay him out for his fault, as she called it, to herself. Beautiful, vindictive, jealous, she was capable of savage fury when aroused, but in indulging her fierce resentment she was running a risk she little dreamed. Laurier, getting an insight into the flirtation, did not feel the least disturbed, but was startled at himself when he detected a latent wish that she would transfer her affections to Noel. CHAPTER XX. WOULD THE OLD LOVE RETURN? December snows lay deep upon the ground when Laurier left the hospital two weeks after the fateful accident that had postponed his wedding. His first visit was to Cora. Having punished him as she deemed sufficiently, she was passionately glad to see him again. The fond arms twined about his neck, the dark head nestled against his breast, the dewy red lips were upturned to meet his own, but as he pressed them he remembered other lips, oh, so warm and sweet and clinging, now pale and cold in death. Ah, pale, pale, now those rosy lips That once I kissed so fondly, And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me so kindly. And moldering now in silent dust The heart that loved me dearly, But still within my bosom’s care Shall live my Highland Mary! Was it Laurier’s punishment for his sin that Jessie should haunt him so, that her pale wraith should glide between him and his living love, and make his lips cold to her kiss and his heart chill to her tender embrace! Time was when his blood had run like fire with those arms about his neck, and that dark head on his breast, but how strangely all was altered now, and what a deep depression hung over him, though he tried to hide it from those searching, dark eyes, and to outdo her in the warmth of his greeting. “Dear Frank, how pale and ill you look! And--and--you do not kiss me as of old. Are you vexed with me because I would not consent to a sick-bed wedding?” archly. “No, no, dear; why should I be? It was better to wait and have a public wedding so as to display your lovely bridal gown, of course,” he answered, forcing a smile.