"She has won him from me; but she is not happy," was her conclusion. "I wonder where he is to-night. I should like to see him again. False and fickle as I know him to be, the old fascination steals over me when I look at his beautiful, regular profile, his clear, brown eyes, and the soft waves of hair that I used to thread with loving fingers. Of course he came with them to Washington, and I suppose the reason of Jewel's angry looks is because for some reason he could not, or would not, come to the opera with her to-night. She is a tyrant, and will rule him with a rod of iron, that half-sister of mine! Well, I do not pity him. He may learn in time to regret _me_, and that will be my vengeance for his cruelty!" She sighed bitterly; and Lord Clive, who had been looking into the opposite box, started, and turned back to look at her. "I beg your pardon for my inattention, dearest," he murmured, tenderly. Azalia threw off her depression, and answered, gayly: "I shall be quite jealous of Miss Fielding if you continue to gaze at her with such admiring eyes." His blue eyes gleamed with pleasure at the bare idea of jealousy on the part of this cold, proud fiancee. "I was not even looking at Miss Fielding," he protested. "It was the elder Miss Meredith that attracted my attention. My dear Azalia, the girl, with her brown eyes and tawny hair, and that stately carriage, is really a beauty. She reminds me of the Duchess De Vere, one of the loveliest ladies in London." Azalia looked with pleasure at stately Edith Meredith, and also at the pretty and _petite_ Io. Both had a look of Laurie that always made her traitor heart beat quick and fast. All the evening her anxious eyes kept straying to the box. Would he not come in during the whole time? No, he did not come, to her bitter disappointment; and the next day she heard, with surprise, that he had not accompanied his party to Washington at all, but had gone South on some important business. CHAPTER XLVI. Face to face with her half-sister at last, with all pretenses laid aside, Jewel had never spent a more uncomfortable hour in her life. She had sent a note requesting a private interview the day after the meeting at the opera, and Azalia Brooke had granted it on the condition that her maid should be present at the interview, stationed in an anteroom with doors open between, so that she could see if not hear all that passed. Jewel had to consent to the humiliating condition; and when she made her appearance was not surprised to find her runaway Maria seated complacently in the anteroom with a malicious grin upon her pretty face.