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(A DREADFUL TEMPTATION. 53
ter of the fever the last time Ninon went to see ner. Itis.
likely that the foggy, rainy morning has deceived her as to.
the lateness of the hour. She will be along presently, no
doubt,” said Mrs. Carroll, carelessly; for her trouble ren-
dered her quite indifferent to her bodily comfort.
Xenie sat down again, and rocked the babe silently for a |
little while.
‘*Oh, mamma, how impatient I grow!” she said, at
length. ‘It seems to me I cannot wait longer. I must put
the child down and go out again. I cannot bear this dréad-
ful suspense.”
~ “No, no;I will go myself,” said Mrs. Carroll, struggling
up feebly from the. lounge. ‘You are cold and wet now,
my darling. .You will get your death out there in the rain.
I must not lose both my darlings at once.”
But Xenie pushed her back again with gentle force.
‘‘No, mamma, you shall not go—youare already ill,” she
said. ‘Let the child lie in your arms, and I will go to the
door and see if anyone is coming.”
Filled with alternate dread and hope, she went to the
door and looked out,
No, there was naught to be seen but therain and the mist
—nothing to be heard but the hollow moan of the ocean, or
the shrill, piping voice of the sea birds skimming across
the waves.
“Tt is strange that the maid does not come,” she said.
again, oppressed with the loneliness and brooding terror
around her.
She sat down again, and waited impatiently for what
seemed a considerable time; then she sprang up restlessly.
‘‘Mamma, I will just walk out a very little way,” she
said. ‘‘I must see if anyone is coming yet.”
‘You must not go far, then, Xenie, 3 Mrs. Carroll remon-
strated.
Xenie dashed out into the rain again, and ran recklessly
along the path, looking far ahead of her as if to pier ce the
mystery that lay beyond her.
Presently she saw a young French girl plodding along _
toward her.
It was Ninon, the belated maid, Over her arm she car:
ried a dr ipping-wet shawl.
It was a preity shawl, of warm woolen, finely woven,
and striped with broad bars of white and red.
~ Xenie knew itinstantly, and a cry of terror br oke from
her lips. It belonged to Lora.
She had scen it lying around her sister’s shoulders when
- she kissed her good-night; yet here it hung on Ninon’s
arms, wet and dripping, the thick, rich fringes all matted
with seaweed,
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