He saw two ladies in the room.
One of them was quite elderly, and had gray hair crimped beneath a pretty cap.
She wore black silk, and sat on a sofa trifling over a bit of fancy knitting.
"That is Mrs. Carroll," he said to himself. "She is a pretty old lady, though she looks so old and careworn. But she is poor, and that explains it. I dare say I shall grow gray and careworn too when Mrs. St. John takes my uncle's money from me, and I have to earn my bread before I eat it."
He saw another lady standing with her back to him by the piano.
She was petite and slender, with a crown of braided black hair, and her robe of rich, wine-colored silk and velvet trailed far behind her on the costly carpet.
She stood perfectly still for a few moments, then turned slowly around, and he saw her face.
"Why, it is Xenie herself!" he exclaimed. "Doctor Shirley lied to me, and I was fool enough to believe his silly joke. Heaven! what I have suffered through my foolish credulity! I've a mind to call Shirley out and shoot him for his atrocity!"
He remained silent a little while studying the lady's dark, beautiful, smiling face, when suddenly he saw the door unclose, and a lady, dressed in the deepest sables of mourning, entered and walked across the floor and sat down by Mrs. Carroll's side upon the sofa.
Howard Templeton started, and a hollow groan broke from his lips.