[CHAPTER IV.]
Laurie Meredith drew a long sigh of relief, and bent tenderly over Flower.
"My darling, shall it be as she says? Will you indeed be mine?" he questioned, tenderly.
She trembled and shrunk away.
"I can not make my sister wretched. Ah, Laurie, if you have indeed made love to her, as she declares, will you not go back to her and try to love her again? She will forgive you this if you beg her very hard. And she is so beautiful it will be easy to love her again."
He tried to explain to her that he had never been in love with Jewel at all, and that he had never made love to her—unless she counted a few pretty compliments and tender glances as words of love. She found it easy to believe him, since her own observations tended to prove the truthfulness of his words.
"I will own that I might have loved her if I had never met you, my darling," he said. "She is very beautiful and charming, but, Flower, you are my queen."
The fair face flushed rosily at his words, but she held herself aloof from his embrace.
"Poor Jewel!" she murmured, in the tones of a pitying angel. "Ah, Laurie, perhaps if I would go away somewhere you might learn to love her after all!"