"Xenie, is that you? Are you just home from the ball?"
Mrs. Carroll turned sleepily on her pillow and looked at the little
figure that came gliding in, looking ghost-like in the pale glimmer of
the night-lamp in its trailing white robes and unbound hair.
"Yes, mamma, it is I. But I have been home several hours from the ball."
"And not asleep yet, dear?" said Mrs. Carroll, in mild surprise.
"No; I am so restless I cannot sleep. I am sorry I had to disturb you,
mamma, but I came to ask you to give me some simple sleeping potion."
"Certainly, love; but wouldn't it be wiser to try and sleep without it?
Did you try counting backward?"
She rose as she spoke and turned up the gas. Mrs. St. John laughed--a
short, mirthless laugh.
"Oh, yes, mamma, I tried all the usual old-woman remedies, but to no
avail. My brain is too excited to yield to trifling measures. Give me
something strong that will induce sleep directly."
Her mother, looking at her keenly, saw that she was very pale, and her
wide-open, dark eyes looked heavy with some speechless pain.
"Dear, you are not ill, are you?" she inquired, going to a little
medicine-case and taking out a small vial and wineglass.
"No, mamma, only nervous and restless. Give me the opiate. It is all I
need."
"Did you enjoy the ball?" asked her mother, pouring out the drops with a
steady hand. "Who was there?"
"Oh, a number of people. Lord Dudley, for instance. You remember we
visited his castle while we were abroad--that great show-place down in
Cornwall. I did not tell him about it, though. He is very handsome and
elegant. Aunt Egerton recommended him to me as a most desireable catch."
She wanted to tell her mother that the sea had given up its dead--that
she had seen Howard Templeton alive and in the flesh, but somehow she
could not bring herself to utter his name; so she had rattled on at
random.
"Humph! I should think Mrs. Egerton had had enough of making matches for
you," her mother muttered. "After the way Howard Templeton treated you
she----"
"Oh, mamma," said Xenie, interrupting her suddenly.
"What?" said Mrs. Carroll.
"He--he is here," said Xenie, with a gasp.
"He--who, child?" asked her mother.
"The man you named," said Xenie, in a low voice, as she took the
wineglass into her shaking hand.
"Not Howard Templeton?" said Mrs. Carroll, with such an air of blank
astonishment that she looked almost ludicrous in her wide-frilled, white
night-cap, and Xenie must have laughed if it had not been for that
strange and heavy aching at her heart. As it was, she simply said:
"Yes, mamma."
"Then he wasn't shipwrecked, after all--I mean he wasn't drowned, after
all. Somebody saved him, didn't they?" said Mrs. Carroll, in a good deal
of astonishment.
And again Xenie said, quietly:
"Yes, mamma."
"But how did it all happen? Or did you ask him?" inquired her mother,
curiously.
"He is coming here to-morrow. I dare say he will tell you all about it.
I am going now. Good-night," said Xenie, draining the contents of the
wineglass and setting it down.
"Good-night, my darling," said Mrs. Carroll, looking after her a little
disappointedly as she went slowly from the room.
But Xenie did not look back, though she knew that her mother was burning
with curiosity to know more of her meeting with Howard Templeton.
She went to her luxurious room, crept shiveringly beneath the satin
counterpane, and was soon lost to all mundane interest in the deep sleep
induced by the drug she had taken.
She slept long and uninterruptedly, and it was far into the day when she
awoke and found her maid, Finette, waiting patiently to dress her.
"You must arrange my hair very carefully, Finette," she said, as the
maid brushed out the dark luxuriance of her tresses, "and put on my
handsomest morning-dress. I expect a caller this morning."
It always pleased her to appear at her very fairest in Howard
Templeton's presence.
She liked for him to realize all he had lost when he gave her back her
troth because she was poor, and because he was not manly enough to dare
the ills of poverty for her sake.
So Finette arranged the silky, shining, dark hair in a soft mass of
waves and puffs that did not look too elaborate for a morning toilet,
and yet was exquisitely becoming, while it gave a certain proud
stateliness to the _petite_ figure.
Then she added a little comb of frosted silver, and laid out several
morning-dresses of various hues and styles for the inspection of her
mistress.
Mrs. St. John looked them over very critically.
It was a spring morning, but the genial airs of that balmy season had
not yet made their appearance sufficiently for an indulgence in the
crisp muslin robes that suited the month, so Xenie selected a
morning-robe of pale-pink cashmere, richly trimmed in quilted satin and
yellowish Languedoc lace.
The soft, rich color atoned for the unusual absence of tinting in the
oval fairness of her face, and when she descended to the drawing-room
she had never looked lovelier.
The slight air of restless expectancy about her was not enough to
detract from her beauty, though it robbed her of repose.
"Mamma, has little Jack come in yet from his morning airing?" she
inquired of Mrs. Carroll, who was sorting some bright-colored wools on a
sofa.
"Yes, half an hour ago. You slept late," said Mrs. Carroll.
"Let us have him in to amuse us," said Mrs. St. John, restlessly.
Mrs. Carroll rang a bell and a servant appeared.
"Tell Ninon to bring my son here," said Mrs. St. John.
Presently the little French maid appeared, leading the beautiful,
richly-dressed child by the hand.
Little Jack rushed forward tumultuously and climbed into Xenie's lap.
She kissed him fondly but carefully, taking care that he did not
disarrange her hair or dress.
"Pretty mamma," whispered the dark-eyed child, patting her pale cheeks
with his dimpled, white hand.
Mrs. St. John smiled proudly, and just then her mother said, with the
air of one who vaguely recalls something:
"Did I dream it last night, Xenie, or did you tell me that Mr. Templeton
is alive, and that he is coming here to-day?"
There came a sudden hurried peal at the door-bell. Xenie started,
growing white and red by turns.
"I told you so," she answered. "And there he is now, I suppose."
She sat very still and waited, clasping the beautiful boy to her wildly
beating heart.
There was a bustle in the hall, then the door was thrown open and a
gentleman was ushered in.
He was a large, handsome young man, in the uniform of a sea captain. He
wore a large, dark beard, and his brown eyes flashed their eagle gaze
around the room, half-anxiously, half-defiantly, until they rested on
Mrs. St. John's face where she sat clasping the child in her arms.
As she met his gaze she put the child down upon the floor and started up
with a low cry.
"_Jack Mainwaring!_" she gasped.