"The fatal gift of beauty which became
A funeral dower of present woes and past."
"I am very sorry I am so pretty, Ruby," she said, sorrowfully, and the child answered, quickly:
"I would not be sorry if I were you, Mary. Some good man will fall in love with your pretty face some day and marry you."
Golden made no reply to this well-meant solace, for the door opened to admit Mrs. Desmond, followed by her young lady guest.
Golden retreated shyly to the furthest corner of the room. She was face to face at last with her haughty cousin Elinor. She drooped her head a moment sadly, while a flood of memories rushed over her, then bravely lifted it again and looked at the young lady through her disfiguring green glasses.
Elinor Glenalvan only glanced with careless indifference at the prim-looking figure of the nurse, then her large, black eyes turned away again, so that Golden had time to observe her with impunity.
The Glenalvans had exerted themselves to the utmost to secure an outfit for Elinor. The result did credit to their efforts. The girl was certainly dazzling.
She wore cream-colored moire, trimmed with rich Spanish lace and cardinal satin. Great clusters of Jaqueminot roses burned on her bosom and in her shining, raven hair.
The costly pearl necklace that John Glenalvan had taken from Golden was clasped around her white throat.
A throb of resentment stirred the young girl's breast as she observed it.