But Frank Laurier could not be untruthful. A bursting sigh heaved his breast as she watched him with pathetic, dark eyes. He turned on her almost fiercely, crying: “You think me a vile wretch, do you not?” “No--but--a flirt--perhaps!” pensively, and he gathered himself together to do battle for his happiness. “I am not a flirt, Jessie, but I may be a vile wretch, for since the first night I saw you I have entirely forgotten the poor girl I am engaged to marry. Instead of loving her I almost hate her because she stands between your heart and mine!” He paused, looking at her, and found her expression doubtful and wondering. “That sounds very fickle and cruel to you, does it not?” he cried, “but let me explain, and you will see that I am not quite so bad as I seem. I was engaged to Cora two years ago, but just before our wedding day I met a girl--the Jessie Lyndon I spoke of to you just now--and there was a bitter rivalry between the two young girls, for I admired Jessie Lyndon very much. But I was bound to Cora and must keep my promise. The girl Jessie died very suddenly, and then I found out strangely that she was dearer to my heart than the living Cora. But I kept my secret locked in my heart, and would have married her the same only that our marriage has been twice postponed by a strange fatality. Now it is announced for the third time, and I am going home to marry her, but in the interval of my absence my heart has turned from her as utterly as if it had never known one throb of love for her in the past.” She did not answer. She was dazed and full of wonder. He had said such astonishing words that she could not forget them. Why did he think she was dead? How had he made so strange a mistake? He added feverishly: “All this while I have been loving Jessie Lyndon dead better than Cora Ellyson living, and when I saw you that night on the steamer my heart went out to you passionately as if you had risen from the dead in answer to my yearning prayer. It would be wrong to wed Cora with my heart full of you! I will go to her and confess the truth, and ask her to release me so that I may lay my life at your feet!” Oh, what a moment of triumph for Jessie Lyndon! When she remembered that awful night at Mrs. Dalrymple’s it seemed too strange to be true that she had won from proud, scornful Cora the lover whom she worshiped, thus paying back scorn for scorn. And she could not doubt he loved her now. It quivered in his voice, and flushed his cheek, thrilling her with a secret happiness too deep for words. Her heart cried wildly: “Oh, if he were but free, my handsome lover, I would confess my love and make him happy!” But the thought of Cora came over her with an icy chill. He had belonged to her first, and, after all her suffering, Jessie was too noble a rival to break that proud girl’s heart.