"For, alas, alas! with me The light of life is o'er! 'No more--no more--no more--' (Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar! "And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams, Are where thy blue eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams-- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams!" He grew impatient with himself at what he called to himself his inexcusable folly. What if he were free to woo, was it likely she would listen?--she, the proud descendant of one of the proudest lords of England. Doubtless she had been taught to have a secret contempt for Americans, and he was a thorough American, proud of his country, proud of its institutions, and though rich, cultured, and well-born, he had no title to lay at the beauty's feet, while Mrs. Raynold Clinton had told him that the young and handsome Earl of Clive was desperately in love with Azalia Brooke. "He was like her shadow in London last winter," she said. "Azalia refused him, but he would not take no for an answer, and Lord and Lady Ivon are in hopes she will reconsider her decision, as the match is a good one, even for their great-granddaughter." Every word was a thorn in his heart. He began to realize something of what Jewel's jealousy was to her in the strange pain that racked his heart. Then he tried to reason with himself. He never could be anything to Azalia Brooke, even if she were not so cold and proud. He belonged to Jewel Fielding, and she had made him understand very plainly that it would not be a safe plan for him to break with her now. Suddenly the Earl of Clive made his appearance in Boston. He had crossed the Atlantic in order to be near the lady of his heart. He was young, rich, and good-looking--a trifle arrogant, perhaps, but one with so many gifts of this life has some cause for vanity. He devoted himself with ardor to Azalia Brooke, causing more than one gallant admirer to think, indignantly: "Were there no beauteous maids at home, And no true lovers here, That he must cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear?" Jewel Fielding was very glad that Azalia Brooke's titled lover had come upon the scene. The beautiful brunette was by no means blind to the state of her lover's feelings. She was half maddened with her bitter jealousy of her betrothed and her hatred of Azalia Brooke. She hoped that Laurie would see the futility of his passion now that Lord Clive had come. CHAPTER XXXVIII. Jewel was very busy getting ready for her marriage now, which had been set for the early spring. In her anxiety to be sure of her husband she would have liked to forego the delights of a trousseau, and be married at once, but she had no excuse for hurrying the time, and Laurie Meredith never hinted at the intervening months as being at all too long.