"You are not looking well, my dear," she said, almost tenderly, for she had taken a serious fancy to the lovely girl. Azalia knew that Lord Clive was listening angrily for her reply, and answered, truthfully: "I have been unhappy over something, Mrs. Meredith, and it has made me feel almost ill!" "Unhappy! What, my dear girl, with all your blessings!" exclaimed the astonished matron; and she could not help letting her glance fall on Lord Clive, who frowned and moved restlessly in his seat. "Ah, it is only a lover's quarrel!" she thought, astutely; and hastily led the conversation to something less personal than Miss Brooke's looks. There was a slight break in the conversation, and to her horror Azalia heard Jewel saying: "I know you have often wondered, Lady Ivon, why I fainted the night when I first met your beautiful niece, Miss Brooke." Lady Ivon coughed slightly, and answered, with cool politeness: "I merely supposed the rooms were too warm for you, Miss Fielding." "Ah, no, it was not that!" said Jewel. Her handsome head, in its plumed bonnet of ruby plush, was thrown backward, and her eyes had a malicious light, her mouth a wicked, defiant smile, as if some secret, exultant thought moved her to speech. "I am going to tell you the reason," continued Jewel, looking straight into Lady Ivon's face. CHAPTER L. Lord and Lady Ivon knew from Azalia's own confession that Jewel Fielding was the cruel half-sister whose machinations had driven her from home, but they did not intend that Jewel should find out her despised half-sister in this proud, lovely young great-granddaughter. So they united in bestowing upon her glances of freezing hauteur, which did not in the least deter her from her purpose. "I am going to tell you why I fainted," said Jewel. "It was because Miss Brooke was the living image of a sister I had lost, and it startled me so that I lost my senses." No one answered, no one moved, and Jewel continued, smoothly: "It is so remarkable a likeness that it shocks me even yet whenever I see Miss Brooke, and more than ever to-night, for she looks pale and sad, and that was how poor Flower looked for many days before she ran away and was lost in the wide world, or drowned in the great sea, perhaps, for I have never been able to learn whether she's alive or dead." Azalia made a slight movement as if to rise to her feet, then sunk back, too weak to obey the longing that urged her to fly from the disgraceful revelation trembling on the lips of her fiendish half-sister. She leaned her golden head back against the velvet chair and watched Jewel with pleading, piteous eyes. The pitiless voice went on, cruelly: