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68 A DREADFUL TEMPTATION.
morn on the shores of France, when Xenie had wandered
| up and down on the ‘‘sea-beat shore” seeking her lost |
~ sister—a year that had brought its inevitable changes, and
dulled the first sharp edge of grief—so: that to-night she
was to throw off her mourning robes and reappear in society
for the first time at a ball given by ber aunt, Mrs. Egerton,
Yet, after that first moment of exultant triumph at her
mother’s praise, a faint, intangible shadow settled over
Mrs. St. John’s brilliant face., ;
The scarlet lips took a graver curve upon their honeyed
sweetness, the dark, curling lashes drooped low, until they
shaded the peachy cheek.
The white-gloved hand that held the rare bouquet
_drooped wearily at her side. ;
“Mamma,” she said, abruptly, ‘‘ I wish I had not. prom-
ised to go.” ;
‘* What has come over you, Xenie? I thought you had
looked forward to this night with real pleasure.” .
‘*T did—I do, mamma, and yet for the moment my heart
grew sad. Iwas thinking of poor little Lora.”
A hot tear splashed down upon her cheek, and Mrs,
Carroll sighed heavily, while her grave, sad face grew
sadder and graver still.. She put her hand upon her
heart.
‘Oh, that we might have her back!” she breathed, in a
voice that was almost a moan of pain.
“The carriage is waiting, madam,” said Finette, appear-
ing at the door.
“Well, lam ready,” said Mrs. St. John, listlessly. ‘‘ My
. cloak, Finette.’ .
jh. The maid came forward and threw the elegant wrap about
her shoulders, and leaving a light kiss on her mother’s lips,
Mrs. St. John swept out of the dressing-room and down to
the carriage that waited to take her to the brilliant fete that
Mrs. Egerton had planned in her especia. honor.
Mrs. Carroll bent her steps to the nursery.
Ninon, the little French nurse, sat beside the hearth sew-
ing on a bit of fancy work, and the soft glow of firelight
and gaslight shining upon her made her look like a quaint,
pretty picture in her neat costume and dark prettiness,
The nursery was a dainty, airy, white-hung chamber. It
had been a smoking-room in Mr. St. John’s time. His wid-
ow had converted it into a nursery.
In a beautiful rosewood, lace-draped crib lay thespurious
heir to the millionaire’s wealth—a beautiful. rosy healthy
boy, sleeping softly and sweetly in innocent unconscious-
i _ ness of the terrible fraud that had. been perpetrated in his
name,
For Mrs. St. John’s daring scheme had succeeded. Lora’s
SNR ere rin tata
uc ke me yam a Oe