Azalia's loveliness shone with all the luster of a beautiful pearl from her shining robe of silvery-blue satin and misty lace, and her perfect identity with the Flower Fielding of old struck her half-sister more strongly than ever. "How could I ever have been fooled for a minute into doubting her identity? The resemblance is perfect, complete, and it is wonderful that Laurie has not recognized her, and taxed her with it," she thought. She had taken pains to convince herself of the truth of Marie's story. She had peered into the old cellar, which was clear of water now, during a spell of continued clear weather, and she had seen no body of a murdered girl lying there in ghastly decay, but only the old black water-proof cloak, which, floating on the top of the water, had so deceived her before. Of course, her wily foes had left it there for that purpose, as she well knew now. After her one smile and nod at the party in the other box she sat silent, glowering at Patti, who was enchanting the vast house with her exquisite voice. Jewel scarcely heard it at all. She was listening to other voices, impish, seducing ones, which said: "You ought to crush that girl from the face of the earth. You will never have any peace until you do, for she is the evil genius of your life. Why hesitate or falter? It was born in you both to hate each other. Your mothers were rivals and foes. Her mother wrecked the peace of yours. Will you let this girl, with her siren glance, cross your path with the same fatal intent?" Lord Clive, when he could spare a glance from Azalia or the _diva_, looked at the handsome trio in the opposite box, and presently he said: "Miss Fielding is not as handsome as she was in Boston. She seems almost to have grown thinner, and her eyes, though bright, have a worn, haggard look, and her expression is strange and hard. Do you observe it, Azalia?" Azalia was obliged to answer in the affirmative. No one could deny the change that terror and unrestrained jealousy and passion had worn in distinctive lines on Jewel's beautiful lineaments. It was too plain to deny. She looked years older and graver than a few weeks ago. Azalia had grown more grave and sad, too; but she tried to hide it from her relatives and her lover. Not for worlds would she have had them know that she was restless and unhappy, almost beyond all bearing, since her constrained parting with Laurie Meredith. She could not help feeling gratified when she saw the lines of pain and unrest on the features of her cruel half-sister.