ch dress to and fro in an impatient promenade, and
twisting recklessly meantime a delicate bit of lace and embroidery
with plump, white fingers--a woman waited and watched for the coming
of Lucian Davlin.

A woman, fair of face, hazel-eyed, sunny-haired, with a form too plump
to be quite classical, yet graceful and prepossessing in the extreme.
A very fair face, and a very wise one; the face of a woman of the
world, who knows it in all its phases; who is able, in her own
peculiar manner, to guide her life bark successfully if not correctly,
and who has little to acquire, in the way of experience, save the art
of growing old gracefully and of dying with an acquitted conscience.

No unsophisticated girl was Cora Weston, but a woman of
eight-and-twenty; an adventuress by nature and by calling, and with
beauty enough, and brains enough, to make her chosen profession
prosperous, if not proper.

She paused before a mirror, carefully adjusting her fleecy hair, for
even in pressing emergencies such women never forget their personal
appearance. This done, she pondered a moment and then pulled the bell.
A most immaculate colored gentleman answered her summons and, bowing
low, stood waiting her will.

"Henry, is it not time that your master were here? The train is
certainly due; are you sure he will come? What did he telegraph you?"

"That he would arrive on the one o'clock express, madame; and he never
fails."

"Very well. If he does not appear soon, Henry, you must go and inquire
if the train has been delayed, and if so, telegraph. My business is
imperative."

The well trained servant bowed again, and, at a signal from her,
withdrew. Left alone, she continued her silent march, listening ever,
until at length a quick footstep came down the passage. Flinging
herself into the depths of a great easy chair, she assumed an air of
listless indifference, and so greeted the new comer.

"Gracious heavens, Cora! what brings you here like this? I thought you
had sailed, and was regretting it by this time."

He hurried to her side and she half rose to return his caress. Then
sinking back, she surveyed him with a lazy half smile. "I wonder if
you are glad to see me, Lucian, my angel; you are such a hypocrite."

He laughed lightly, and threw himself into a seat near her. "Candid
Cora, you are not a hypocrite,--with me," and he looked admiringly yet
impatiently at her. "Come," he said, at length, as she continued to
tap her slender