Xenie drew back, silent and offended.
"Xenie, darling, don't be angry," pleaded Lora's weak and faltering tones; "I will keep my promise. You shall call him yours, and the world shall believe it. He shall even call you mother, but you must let me be near him always—you must let him love me a little, dear, because I am his own dear mother."
She paused a moment, then added, in faint accents:
"And, Xenie, you will call him Jack—for his father's sake, you know."
"Yes, darling," Xenie answered, tenderly, melted out of her momentary resentment by the pathos of Lora's looks and words, "it shall all be as you wish. I only wish to call him mine before the world, you know. I would not take him wholly from you, my little sister."
"A thousand thanks," murmured Lora, feebly, then she put up her white arm and drew Xenie's face down to hers.
"I have been dreaming, dear," she said. "It seemed to me in my dream as if my poor Jack were not dead after all. It seemed to me he escaped from the terrible fire and shipwreck, and came back to me brave and handsome, and loving, as of old. It seems so real to me even now that I feel as though I could go out and almost lay my hand upon my poor boy's head. Ah, Xenie, if it only could be so!"
Mrs. St. John looked across at her mother, and Mrs. Carroll shook her head warningly. Then she said aloud, in a soothing tone:
"These are but sick fancies, dear. You must not think of Jack any more to-night, but of your pretty babe."
"Grandmamma is quite proud of her little grandson already," said Xenie, with tender archness.