Xenie sat down in the easy-chair on the veranda and looked out at the
mystical sea spread out before her gaze, with the moon and stars
mirrored in its restless bosom.
Everything was very still. No sound came to her ears save the restless
beat of the waves upon the shore. She leaned forward with her arms
folded on the veranda rail, and her chin in the hollow of one pink palm,
gazing directly forward with dark eyes full of heavy sadness and pain.
She was tired and depressed. Lora had been ill and restless for many
nights past, and Xenie and Mrs. Carroll had kept alternate vigils by her
sleepless couch.
The last night had been Xenie's turn, and now the strange, narcotic
influence of her grief for Lora combined with physical weariness to
weigh her eyelids down.
After an interval of anxious listening for sounds from the sick-room,
her heavy head dropped wearily on her folded arms, and she fell asleep.
Sleeping, she dreamed. It seemed to her that Howard Templeton, whom once
she loved so madly, whom now she bitterly hated, came to her side, and
looking down upon her in the sweet spring moonlight, laid his hand upon
her and said, gravely, and almost imploringly:
"Xenie, this is the turning-point in your life. Two paths lay before
you. Choose the right one and all will go well with you. Peace and
happiness will be yours. But choose the evil path and the finger of
scorn will one day be pointed at you so that you will not dare to lift
your eyes for shame."
In her dream Xenie thought that she threw off her enemy's hand with
scorn and loathing.
Then it seemed to her that he gathered her up in his arms and was about
to cast her into the deep, terrible sea, when she awoke with a great
start, and found herself struggling in the arms of her mother, who had
lifted her out of the chair, and was saying, impatiently:
"Xenie, Xenie! child, wake up. You will get your death of cold sleeping
out here in the damp night air, and the wind and moisture from the sea
blowing over you."
Xenie shook herself free from her mother's grasp, and looked around her
for her deadly foe, so real had seemed her dream.
But she saw no tall, proud, manly form, no handsome, blonde face gazing
down upon her as she looked.
There was only the cold, white moonlight lying in silvery bars on the
floor, and her mother still shaking her by the arm.
"Xenie, Xenie, wake up," she reiterated. "Here I have been shaking and
shaking you, and all in vain. You slept like the dead."
"Mamma, I was dreaming," said Mrs. St. John, coming back to herself with
a start. "What is the matter? What is the matter? Is my sister worse?"
Mrs. Carroll took her daughter's hand and drew her inside the hallway,
then shut and locked the door.
"No, Xenie," she said, abruptly, "Lora is not worse--she is better. Are
you awake? Do you know what I am saying? Lora has a beautiful son."
"Oh, mamma, it was but a minute ago that I went out on the veranda."
Mrs. Carroll laughed softly.
"Oh, no, my dear. It was several hours ago. You have been asleep a long
time. It is nearly midnight."
"And Lora really has a son, mamma?"
"Yes, Xenie: the finest little fellow I ever saw."
"You promised to call me if she became worse and you needed me," said
Mrs. St. John, reproachfully.
"I did not need you, dear. I did everything for Lora my own self," said
Mrs. Carroll, with a sort of tender pride in her voice.
"And she is doing well? I may see her--and the baby--my little son!"
exclaimed Xenie, with a sudden ring of triumph in her voice.
"Yes, she is doing well; a little flighty now and then, and very weak;
she could not bear the least excitement. But you shall go to her in a
minute. She wished it."
They went into the dimly-lighted, quiet room, and Xenie kissed her
sister and cried over her very softly. Then she took the bundle of warm
flannel out of Lora's arms and uncovered a red and wrinkled little face.
"Why, mamma, you said it was beautiful," she said, disappointedly; "and
I am bound to confess that, to me, it looks like a very old and wrinkled
little man."
Mrs. Carroll laughed very softly.
"I don't believe you ever met with a very young baby before, my dear,"
she said. "I assure you he is quite handsome for his age, and he will
improve marvelously in a week's time."
Xenie stood still, holding the babe very close and tight in her arms,
while a dazzling smile of triumph parted her beautiful scarlet lips. She
hated to lay it down, for while she held it warm and living against her
breast she seemed to taste the full sweetness of the wild revenge she
had planned against her enemy.
"Oh, mamma, Lora," she cried, "how impatiently I have waited for this
hour! And now I am so glad, so glad! We will go home soon, now--as soon
as our darling is well enough to travel--and then I shall triumph to the
uttermost over Howard Templeton."
She kissed the little pink face tenderly and exultantly two or three
times, then laid him back half-reluctantly on his mother's impatient
arm.
"He is my little son," she whispered, gently; "for you are going to give
him to me, aren't you, Lora?"
A weary sigh drifted over the white lips of the beautiful young mother.
"I will lend him to you, Xenie, for I have promised," she murmured;
"but, oh, my sister, does it not seem cruel and wrong to take such an
innocent little angel as that for the instrument of revenge?"
Xenie drew back, silent and offended.
"Xenie, darling, don't be angry," pleaded Lora's weak and faltering
tones; "I will keep my promise. You shall call him yours, and the world
shall believe it. He shall even call you mother, but you must let me be
near him always--you must let him love me a little, dear, because I am
his own dear mother."
She paused a moment, then added, in faint accents:
"And, Xenie, you will call him Jack--for his father's sake, you know."
"Yes, darling," Xenie answered, tenderly, melted out of her momentary
resentment by the pathos of Lora's looks and words, "it shall all be as
you wish. I only wish to call him mine before the world, you know. I
would not take him wholly from you, my little sister."
"A thousand thanks," murmured Lora, feebly, then she put up her white
arm and drew Xenie's face down to hers.
"I have been dreaming, dear," she said. "It seemed to me in my dream as
if my poor Jack were not dead after all. It seemed to me he escaped from
the terrible fire and shipwreck, and came back to me brave and handsome,
and loving, as of old. It seems so real to me even now that I feel as
though I could go out and almost lay my hand upon my poor boy's head.
Ah, Xenie, if it only could be so!"
Mrs. St. John looked across at her mother, and Mrs. Carroll shook her
head warningly. Then she said aloud, in a soothing tone:
"These are but sick fancies, dear. You must not think of Jack any more
to-night, but of your pretty babe."
"Grandmamma is quite proud of her little grandson already," said Xenie,
with tender archness.
"Mamma, shall you really love the little lad? You were so angry at
first," Lora said, falteringly.
"That is all over with now, my daughter. I shall love my little grandson
as dearly as I love his mother, soon," replied Mrs. Carroll; "but now,
love, I cannot allow you to talk any longer. Excitement is not good for
you. Run away to bed, Xenie. We do not need you to-night."
"Let me stay and share your vigil," pleaded Xenie.
"No, it is my turn to-night. Last night you sat up, you know. I will
steal a little rest upon the lounge when Lora gets composed to sleep
again."
Xenie went away to her room and threw herself across the bed, dressed as
she was, believing that she was too excited to go to sleep again.
But a gradual drowsiness stole over her tumultuous thoughts, and she was
soon wrapped in a troubled, dreamful slumber.
Daylight was glimmering faintly into the room, when Mrs. Carroll rushed
in, pale and terrified, and shook her daughter wildly.
"Oh, Xenie, wake, wake, for God's sake!" she cried, in the wildest
accents of despair and terror. "Such a terrible, terrible thing has
happened to Lora!"