Again the door opened, and Jewel thrust the letter into the envelope and slipped her hand down among the folds of her rich gown.

"Marie, what do you mean by interrupting me like this?" she broke out, petulantly.

Marie courtesied, apologized, and explained that a lady, a woman, had called to see Miss Fielding, and would not be denied.

"What do you mean by a lady, a woman?" Jewel mimicked, impatiently; and the maid explained, in broken French, that the caller had a high-bred voice and air, but was dressed very shabbily, and had come on foot.

"Her name?" Jewel demanded.

But the shabby caller had given the maid no card.

"Why did you not send her to Mrs. Wellings since she would not go away?"

Mrs. Wellings had gone to her room with a headache, and desired no one to disturb her in the little nap with which she proposed to while away the dull afternoon.

"Headache! too much wine at luncheon!" Jewel muttered, scornfully; and then, having nothing else to do, and being of a curious disposition, she said, lightly: "Go, and show your impertinent shabby lady up here, Marie, and I will find out what she wishes. A beggar, perhaps—insolent creature!"

Marie withdrew, and Jewel threw herself into an attitude of studied grace, the better to impress the caller, whom she opined was some poor creature, a needle-woman desiring work, most probably.

The door opened, and a slight, dark figure, very poorly dressed, indeed, followed Marie over the threshold and stood there hesitating. Jewel looked at her curiously, but a dark veil was drawn over the features of the unknown.

"Well?" she interrogated, curtly and haughtily.

"Send your maid away, please, Miss Fielding," said a low, imploring voice that made Jewel start in spite of her haughty self-command. She immediately motioned Marie away, and, rising quickly, turned the key in the lock after her exit.

Then, with a swift tremor shaking her whole frame, she confronted the veiled figure.

"Now," she said, sharply, and the veil was flung aside by an agitated hand, and Jewel and Flower, the long-parted half-sisters, the beautiful rivals, stood face to face!

Something like a groan of despair came from Jewel's blanched lips, and Flower said, bitterly:

"You know me!"

Jewel was not taken wholly by surprise. She had been looking for something like this for two years, never having quite believed her own story of Flower's suicide. She remained silent a moment, collecting her thoughts, then said, coldly:

"I have believed you dead for two years, but the moment you spoke I knew your voice. I never heard a voice quite like yours. But where have you been so long, and what has brought you here to-night?"

Flower, whose beautiful face was wan and ghastly white, answered, with sudden passion:

"It matters not where I have been, since it is evident you were glad to believe me dead. But I will tell you why I am here, Jewel!" and she drew from beneath her long, black water-proof a worn newspaper, and held it out to Jewel. "You have read this paragraph, of course?" she said. "Tell me what it means, or I shall go mad!"

The dark eyes glanced at the short paragraph, the red lips parted in a malicious smile, and Jewel said, airily:

"It means what it says, of course."

She saw the slight, graceful form shiver with emotion, the blue eyes dilate widely.

"Oh, Jewel!" gasped the girl, pleadingly. "This Laurie Meredith—who is he?"

Jewel gave utterance to a low, mocking laugh, and answered:

"Not the dead alive, certainly; for although you have come back from your supposed grave, your old lover has not. I could keep you in suspense awhile, but I see you are not able to bear it, so I will tell you at once that this man whom I am so soon to marry is a cousin of your Laurie Meredith."

"A cousin!" Flower faltered, disappointedly, plainly betraying the wild hope that had lurked in her heart, and causing Jewel to exclaim sharply:

"Why, of course! You could not suppose it was the same man after you read his death in the paper."

"I—I—thought—hoped, it might be a mistake—that it was some one else who was dead—not my husband! Oh, I can not tell what I hoped when I saw that dear name in the paper again!" wailed Flower; and unable to stand longer, she sunk upon the velvet couch, and sobbed heart-brokenly.

Jewel watched the bowed, golden head with a terrible hatred, a panther-like fury in her large, black eyes, and clinching her white teeth fiercely, she said to herself:

"Ah, I did not know what a hell of hate was in my heart until this weak girl came between me and my heart's beloved! I can understand now how my mother hated her mother! I can feel the same murderous jealousy that made her life wretched! Ah, what am I to do? She is alive, she is in the same city with Laurie Meredith, and they will surely find each other out despite all my lies and all my schemes."

Dark, terrible thoughts came into her mind. She wished that she could see her sister fall down dead at her feet, so bitter was her hate.

Suddenly Flower lifted her beautiful, pathetic face, and a gleam of her old spirit shone in her eyes. She exclaimed, warningly:

"Jewel, I warn you not to deceive me! If it be really Laurie Meredith, if it was not he who died, tell me the truth! What could it profit you to keep us apart now? I remember that you used to love him, that you were angry because he preferred me, but even if he had learned to love you, believing me dead, you could not be his wife now—now, while I am alive!"

A cruel, mocking laugh came from Jewel's writhing lips. She bent forward, and hissed, vindictively:

"You were always a fool, Flower! You never would listen to me when I told you that Laurie Meredith fooled you into an illegal marriage. Now, as you demand the truth, you shall have it. Laurie Meredith was a married man when he first came to our sea-side home, had a young wife in Boston when he betrayed you. She found out his treachery somehow, and that was why he left Virginia so suddenly. She was so imbittered by his wickedness that they say she did not shed a tear when he died, and in a short time she sold all her property here and went abroad, never to return."

"No, no; I will not believe he could be so wicked," came in a whisper of agony from Flower's white lips. "Oh, Jewel, how did you learn all this?"

"From my betrothed, the cousin of your heartless betrayer," Jewel replied, coolly; and a short silence fell between the two.

Then Flower exclaimed:

"Jewel, I should like to see this man! I should like to hear from his own lips—"

Jewel recoiled in horror.

"You are mad!" she cried. "Do you think I would permit it, that I would own you, the half-sister whose kinship to me is her disgrace and a brand on the memory of my dead father?"

She turned her back on the poor girl with a disdainful gesture, and swept toward the fire, and stood there with her pretty pointed slipper on the fender, murderous thoughts rising in her heart.

"I could kill her, I hate and fear her so much!" she thought, hotly.

Flower's tear-wet eyes had fallen to the floor. They fastened on an envelope lying close to her feet half under the folds of her dress. She saw the name of her sister on the upper side.

She did not feel much interest in the letter. She could not understand afterward, when she came to think of it soberly, why she had picked it up and hid it in her breast.