Several months went by, and the fate that hung so heavily over Flower Fielding's beautiful head lowered more and more darkly, until life became a burden almost too heavy to be borne.

Laurie Meredith had gone away on the night before the one appointed for their elopement, and nothing had ever been heard of him since.

At first Flower had feared that something had happened to her lover, and in her desperation she had personally made inquiry at the hotel where he had boarded, and the clerk had told her that Mr. Meredith had settled his bill that evening and had his trunk sent down to the boat, saying that he was going home, as his father had written for him to come.

"I am very sorry," Flower said, falteringly. She saw the clerk's look of astonishment, and added: "Mr. Meredith lent me some books to read, and I would have liked to return them, but I did not know he was going away so soon. Have you any idea where I could send them?"

"No, I have not, miss; but I dare say Mr. Meredith desired you to keep them," returned the resplendent young clerk, with an admiring glance at the lovely young girl, which made her color hotly and immediately turn away.

"He will come back, or he will write soon and explain why he went away so suddenly. He may have been called away by a telegram. Perhaps some of his relatives are dead," she thought; and for several weeks she waited, expecting his return, or a letter at least.

Still she could not help feeling indignant at the way in which he had gone.

"He might have sent a note to let me know," she thought; but as time passed on without any explanation, she resolved to write to him and ask him why he had treated her so unkindly.

He had given her a card one day with his Northern address upon it, and she had put it away carefully in her little rosewood writing-desk.

But when she went to look for it the card was gone. Something else was gone, too—a paper that Laurie had given her to keep—an important document.

She nearly fainted at first; but, rousing herself, she went to her trunk and looked carefully through that, then her bureau drawers, thinking that perhaps she had removed it to another place.

But neither the card nor the paper was to be found.

A wild suspicion came to her, and she rushed to Jewel's room.

"Have you taken anything out of my desk?" she asked, abruptly.

Jewel looked around in surprise.

"What a question! Of course I have not taken anything from your desk. Have you lost anything, or only your senses, Flower Fielding?"

Flower shrunk sensitively from her sister's sharp voice and angry glance, and answered in a low voice:

"I had a card with Laurie Meredith's name on it, and—a very important paper. I thought perhaps you had taken them away to tease me."

"No, I have not seen them. What was the paper about?" Jewel asked, gazing sharply into her sister's downcast face.

"I can not tell you, dear Jewel," was the sad reply. Then taking courage in her misery, the poor girl continued. "Do you remember where Laurie Meredith lived? And will you tell me, for I have forgotten?"

"You wish to write to him?" sneered Jewel, and Flower sighed:

"Yes."

"Has he written to you?"

"No; or at least I have never received a letter—but, Jewel, he must have written—he must surely have written—only I have never received the letter."

The piteous voice, the tearful blue eyes were very touching, but Jewel Fielding laughed harshly.

"Do you want to know what I think?" she cried. "You are a fool, Flower Fielding. The man never gave you another thought after he left here, and I am surprised at you for thinking of writing to him. And what would mamma say? You know she forbid you to have anything to say to Laurie Meredith."

"Yes, I know. Please do not tell her, Jewel, that I wished to write to him," Flower faltered, anxiously.

"If you will promise me not to write to him, Flower, I will not tell mamma."

"How can I write when I do not know where to address a letter? But I will not promise, for if I find out I shall write!" Flower cried, defiantly, and rushed away.