Kendale left the mansion two hours later with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

“Marrying heiresses is much easier than most men suppose,” he muttered—­and he stopped short in the grounds, standing under a tree until the lights went out one by one, shrouding the house in gloom.

Meanwhile, girl like, Claire had flown to Faynie’s apartment to tell her the wonderful news—­that her handsome lover had really proposed and her mother had given her consent, and she was to be married at once.

Faynie’s swoon had put a stop to confiding to her all the wonderful things Lester had said.  “I will tell her in the morning,” she promised herself, little dreaming what was to transpire ere the morrow dawned.

CHAPTER XXIV.

An awful apparition.

When Faynie awoke to consciousness she found the housekeeper bending over her.  Hours had passed and Claire had long since retired to her room.

Faynie opened her eyes slowly, in a half-dazed manner, but as she did so memory returned to her with startling force; but she bravely restrained the cry that rose to her lips.

Claire had called her lover “Lester!” She wondered that the sound of that name had:  not stricken her head.

Could Claire’s lover be—­Ah! she dared not even imagine such a horrible possibility.  Then she laughed aloud, thinking how foolish she had been to be so needlessly alarmed.

The false lover who had wooed and won her so cruelly was not the only man in the world who bore the fateful name of Lester.

“Ah, you are better, my dear,” exclaimed the old housekeeper in great relief.  “Your swoon lasted so long that I was greatly alarmed; What caused you to faint, my dear child?”

Faynie murmured some reply which she could not quite catch, for the housekeeper was old and very deaf.

“Take this and go to sleep,” she said, holding a soothing, quieting draught to the girl’s white, hot, parched lips.  “You will awaken as well as ever to-morrow.”

Faynie did as she was requested, closing her eyes.  She was glad when the kindly old face was turned away and she was left alone—­not to sleep, but to think.

Of course it could not be Lester Armstrong who was Claire’s suitor, for he was poor, and her haughty stepmother would never encourage the suit of a man who did not have wealth at his command.

If Faynie had but read the papers she would have known what was transpiring, but, alas! she did not and was utterly unaware of the strange turn of fortune’s wheel which had occurred in the life of the young assistant cashier to whom she had given the wealth of her love, when he was poor.

Lying there, going over every detail of, the past, which seemed now but the idle vagaries of a fleeting dream, she hardly knew, Heaven help her, whether she still loved—­or hated with all the strength of her nature—­Lester Armstrong.