Frightened at the thought of going mad, Jewel ceased her wild raving, and tried to look her fate fairly in the face.

One of the first conclusions to which her mind leaped was that Azalia Brooke was no other than her half-sister, Flower. She had come to see her in disguise that night, pleading poverty, when in reality she had been the heiress of Lord Ivon and the toast of the city. Ah, and Jewel's hand clutched at the empty air in impotent passion, how she regretted that her work had failed her that afternoon, and that Marie had rescued her victim from death! It was well indeed for cunning Marie that she was out of reach of Miss Fielding's vengeance.

But, Jewel asked herself, wonderingly, why had not Flower claimed her husband? She had certainly recognized him, and she knew that it was his father's death she had read in the paper that terrible night. Why then had Flower kept the secret of her identity, and even betrothed herself to another?

Jewel's mind could furnish but one solution to that strange problem.

Flower had been adopted in some mysterious manner by the old nobleman and his wife, and was ambitious of shining in the world. She doubted whether she had ever been really Laurie's wife, and did not wish for him to recognize her, fearing that it would ruin her brilliant prospects in life. She intended to let Laurie Meredith believe her dead, while in reality she would be alive, the wife of an earl, one of the most beautiful countesses in England.

Jewel choked with anger at the thought of the despised Flower attaining such lofty heights, but even that was better than to reveal herself to Laurie Meredith.

"Yes, far better, for I would rather have him than a king!" she thought, that stormy love of hers always rising superior to every other ambition. She decided that she would go to Washington, seek an interview with Flower, and tell her that she recognized her, but would keep her secret if she would return at once to England and marry Lord Clive. If she refused, and the beautiful face grew dark with passion at the thought, Jewel told herself, in a vindictive whisper, that her rival must be removed at all hazards from her path.

Her plans thus laid, she called in the house-maid to assist in packing her trunks, picturing to herself the alarm of her lover when he should find that she had followed him to Washington.

"I will make him understand, once for all, that I am not to be trifled with by any one," she told herself, angrily, and with a bitter wonder at her failure to win Laurie Meredith's heart.

"And I so beautiful, so wondrously beautiful," she thought, pausing a moment to gaze at her reflection in the glass—at her flashing dark eyes, her red lips and cheeks, her braided coronal of purplish jet-black hair.

"I am beautiful enough to be a queen, yet I can not win the heart of the only man I ever cared for," she thought, with a sort of agony at her failure.

But every pang she suffered only made her more determined to triumph in the end.

"Only let me get Flower out of the way, and I may win him yet. I was near to it when she came, and surely I can recover my lost ground some day," she said.

She was driven in her carriage to Mrs. Meredith's, and found them waiting, although they hoped that she would change her mind even at the last moment.

But no, Jewel took her seat in the train as grim and implacable as fate itself, and determined as ever to make all else on earth yield to her imperious will and desire.

The Merediths, thoroughly disgusted at her jealous freak, sat with her; but there was very little said by any one. But Jewel scarcely noticed the constraint and silence of Laurie's mother and sisters. She was completely wrapped up in her own dark thoughts, and remained so until they reached the end of their long journey.