Azalia Brooke, drooping in her chair like a broken lily, realized then that she had made a fatal mistake in admitting her identity and trusting faithless Jewel with her story.
Her half-sister's cruel aim flashed over her mind like lightning.
She hoped that her hapless victim's lover and relatives would turn against her when they heard that disgraceful story, and that they would cast her forth in disgrace, so that she would be thrown friendless and helpless on the world.
This, indeed, was Jewel's cruel intention, and she said to herself that if her plan succeeded poor Flower should never live to see Laurie Meredith again.
Everyone looked at Flower, hoping that she would deny Jewel's dreadful charge.
Alas! that beautiful bowed head told its own story of bitter shame and sorrow. There was nothing for her to say. The bitter secret, kept so long, was dragged to the light of day at last.
"Azalia!" Lady Ivon exclaimed, imploringly.
But the golden head only sunk lower in its terrible despair.
Lord Clive looked from the dark, vindictive face of Jewel Fielding to that downcast, despairing one of her persecuted half-sister. All his manhood rose to the surface, the nobility inherited from a long line of stainless ancestry shone in his clear blue eyes. Looking into Jewel's face, with scorn in his eyes, he said, distinctly: