"Ah, Lora, you do not know how you would have felt in such a case. You have been mercifully spared the trial. Let us drop the subject," answered Xenie, a little shortly.
Lora sighed wearily and turned her head away, throwing her black-bordered handkerchief over her face.
Her sister stood still a moment, watching the quiet, recumbent figure, then went to the window, and, drawing the lace curtains aside, stood silently looking out at the beautiful sea, with the sunset glories reflected in the opalescent waves, the soft, spring breeze fluttering the silken rings of dark hair that shaded her broad, white brow.
As she stood there in the soft sunset light in her bright young beauty and rich attire, a smile of proud triumph curved her scarlet lips.
"Ah, Howard Templeton," she mused, "the hour of my triumph is close at hand."
And then, in a gentler tone, while a shade of anxiety clouded her face, she added:
"But poor little Lora! Pray God all may go well with her!"
The roseate hues of sunset faded slowly out, and the purple twilight began to obscure everything.
One by one the little stars sparkled out and took their wonted places in the bright constellations of Heaven.
Still Xenie remained motionless at the window, and still Lora lay quietly on her couch, her pale, anguished young face hidden beneath the mourning handkerchief.