It seemed to Carlita that it was impossible that so much could have been accomplished in the few short hours that had been allotted to the florist; and yet, when she descended to the drawing-room, the mantels were banked with flowers and the rooms were decorated as if some grand ball were in progress.

Her gown had been rearranged by the deft fingers of Jessica's own maid until it seemed impossible that it could have been one of the last year's fashioning. The bodice was dÉcolletÉ and over the back and across the shoulders a fall of magnificent old lace had been arranged, falling in jabots from the front of the shoulders. A soft old piece of "the cloth of silver" was laid in cross plaits over the front, after the fashion of an old fichu, and fastened at the waist with superb diamond buckles which had belonged to her paternal grandmother. On the shoulders, fastening the lace, were diamond butterflies, their wings raised as if they had but alighted for the moment, and were even then ready to wing their way again. The broad, round belt was caught with a diamond arrow in the back, while in the hair a beautiful bow knot of the same gems caught the rolls of blue-black hair together.

Her throat and arms were bare save for a row of diamonds about the wrists.

It was really a picture of superb beauty that she presented as she stood there in the door of that artistically decorated apartment, and one that no man could look upon unmoved.

There was a glitter in Jessica's eyes as she observed—a glitter of malicious hatred—and for a moment the small teeth closed upon the crimson underlip.

"Curse her!" she muttered, in voiceless hatred—"curse her! She shall rue the day that she robbed me of Leith Pierrepont's love! There is nothing so sweet in life as vengeance!"

But she went forward with a bewilderingly fascinating smile upon her lips.

"Ah, chÈrie, how lovely you are," she exclaimed, clasping her arms in delight. "If I were a man, I should commit any folly, any madness to win you. I even think I might emulate the young Lochinvar and steal you away bodily. I can almost find it in my heart to forgive the man who would commit a crime in order that he might possess you."

"Hush!" exclaimed Carlita, with a slight shiver. "I never felt such a sneak in my life. My courage almost fails me at times. Have I the right to do evil that good may come?"

Jessica shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"You must be the judge of that," she answered, lightly. "It is your lover who has been murdered, not mine. It was the man who was to have been your husband who lies out there, treacherously lured to his death, given no chance for self-defense, suffocated like a rat in a hole, not even given an opportunity for escape. It was your—"

"For the love of Heaven, hush!" cried Carlita, all her lovely color forsaking her. "You are right—you are right. I should be a coward—worse than that, an accomplice—did I fail to make him pay the penalty of his crime."

"Take care. There is the bell."

She took Carlita by the arm and led her quickly into the conservatory, in order that she might have time to recover herself, speaking to her in the old, soothing voice, knowing her power as well as did the treacherous sirens of old.

An hour later there were two tables for poker formed in the drawing-room. At one of them Jessica and Carlita sat with Redfield Ash, Dudley Maltby and Hugh Beresford. At the other there were six persons.

"We are to teach Carlita tonight!" exclaimed Jessica, gayly, to the men at their table. "I assure you she will be an apt pupil, though it is her first attempt. I spent a whole hour this evening giving her points on the game. Don't be surprised if you all lose your good ducats, for you well know the luck of a beginner. How many cards, Carlita?"

"Two, please."

"Three of a kind already? I shall be very careful, I assure you, how I go up against your hands. There you are! Now, Dudley, open the ball and make it lively."

"Not on a pair of deuces," he answered, with a short laugh, throwing down his cards. "I'm afraid Miss de Barryos has robbed the pack."

The betting was really very small, the limit being one dollar, and no one with a hand worth much except Carlita. The pot was finally awarded to her without seeing her hand, and once more the cards were dealt.

This time she called for one, and a groan went around the table.

"What is it?" asked Jessica, laughing. "A flush or a straight?"

But Carlita only smiled and held her cards closely.

There were some rather good ones against her this time, and the betting became lively; but as she raised the bet again and again one backed down and then another, until she finally proved herself the victor once more.

"Let me see what you had!" exclaimed Jessica. "Just as a matter of fun, you understand, though it's not in accord with the rules of the game. A bob-tail flush, as I live, and full a hundred to the good!"

There was a shout of laughter from the men at the wisdom of their new opponent, and the capital manner in which she had won their money, and as the noise continued, the name of the new arrival which the servant announced was drowned:

"Mr. Pierrepont!"

It gave him an opportunity to pause at the door. For a moment he did not recognize Carlita in her white gown, flashing as she was with diamonds, the flush of excitement coloring her lovely cheeks to the hue of the wild rose, and when he did an expression of such pain darkened his eyes as must have attracted the attention of every one who observed him. But no one did except Jessica, and he had had ample time to recover himself before the laughter had subsided.

He went forward in the old debonair manner and stood behind Carlita's chair.

"Who won a hundred with a bob-tail flush?" he asked, carelessly.

"Carlita!" answered Jessica, putting out her hand to welcome him. "And she did it with the coolness of a man who had spent his life in the business. I predict she will become one of the best players in New York. Come and join us. Here is a chair for you."

"Thanks, no," he answered, after a slight hesitation. "I don't feel up to it tonight. I'll watch you for a moment, and perhaps you'll let me play something for you on the piano later. No, don't urge me, Maltby. I really couldn't. Do you like the game, Miss de Barryos?"

There was something almost wistful in the question, but Carlita threw up her head with a sort of defiance and answered in a tone that contained a metallic ring:

"Very. It is fascinating. I really think I shall never want to do anything else."

Leith sighed slightly.

He was silent, striving to account for the sudden and mysterious change in her, and yet for some reason unfathomable he dared not ask her the cause. He watched them for a few hands, and then wandered to the piano, playing a few selections in which there was so little heart that it wearied him.

Once or twice he got up to go, but some invisible power seemed to chain him to the place. He could not leave.

It was not until eleven o'clock, when supper was announced, that he got an opportunity of saying a word alone to Carlita.

"And so you are trying to unlearn Puritanism," he said to her, with a little wistful smile upon his lips that made him so singularly handsome. "Do you think you will like the change from saint to satyr?"

"I was never a saint, and there is no reason why I should be a satyr," she answered, forcing herself to smile in return. "Puritanism must be an awfully trying thing to one's friends."

"Not to the friends who love you."

"Our friends never love us unless we are interesting to them."

"Friends who love you because you entertain and amuse them are not worth having. They desecrate the name. And friends who would degrade you are demons in disguise, who are tempting you to eternal ruin, branding your soul with the crest of Satan in order that you may make them laugh."

For a moment Carlita glanced up with a mocking smile upon her lips. Ah, verily was this the "devil quoting scripture." A murderer—the murderer of her lover, prating to her of her soul!

"You ought to go into the Salvation Army," she cried, compelling her tongue to speak lightly. "Are you without sin that you are willing to cast a stone?"

"God knows I am not; but is a future denied to man because of a blackened past? Heaven knows I would give all the years to come if I could cleanse my soul of sin and stand before you and my God for one brief hour a pure man."

A wild light gleamed in her eyes. She bent forward away from him, not daring to look at him. Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper, and yet he heard the words:

"You have sinned so deeply, then?"

He paused, lifting the heavy hair from his white brow, as if its weight oppressed him.

"Yes," he answered.

"How?" she panted.

Another pause, then slowly:

"I can not tell you now, but some day I will. Some day when—"

"When what?" she whispered, breathlessly.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear:

"When I know that you love me, even as I love you!"