Mr. Middleton arose and followed his niece, who congratulated herself on the success of her stratagem.  After reaching her room, and exhibiting her painting, she said to her uncle, “I do hope you will not ask Mrs. Carrington to go to New Orleans this summer.”

“Why not?” said Mr. Middleton.  “She seems anxious that I should do so.”

“I know it,” answered Julia; “but I am afraid she is not a good woman.  At least she had a bad influence over me, and I always feel wicked after being with her awhile.”

As Julia had supposed, this had the desired effect.  Mr. Middleton would not ask one to visit him whose influence over his niece was bad.  Consequently, all Mrs. Carrington’s hints were unnoticed or misunderstood.  She, however, knew tolerably well to whom she was indebted for the slight; and when, after Mr. Middleton’s departure, Julia said to her, “I wonder uncle did not invite you, too; I thought he was going to do so,” she replied, rather sharply, “I fancy I should have been under no obligations to you, Miss Julia, if I had received an invitation.”  Then turning, she hastily entered her room, and throwing herself upon the sofa, she tried to devise some scheme by which she could undermine Julia, provided Dr. Lacey should show her any marked attention.

Mrs. Carrington was not in a very enviable mood.  The night before Raymond had offered her his heart and hand, and of course had been rejected.  He was in the parlor when Julia so abruptly took her uncle away.  As there was no one present besides Mrs. Carrington, he seized upon that moment to declare his love.  It is impossible to describe the loathing and contempt which she pretended to feel for him who sued so earnestly for her hand, even if her heart did not accompany it.  Nothing daunted by her haughty refusal, Raymond arose, and standing proudly before the indignant lady said, “Ida Carrington, however much dislike you may pretend to feel for me I do not believe it.  I know I am not wholly disagreeable to you, and were I possessed of thousands, you would gladly seize the golden bait.  I do not ask you to love me, for it is not in your nature to love anything.  You are ambitious, and even now are dreaming of one whom you will never win; for just as sure as yon sun shall set again, so sure you, proud lady, shall one day be my wife.”

When Mrs. Carrington had recovered a little from the surprise into which Raymond’s fiery speech had thrown her, he was gone and she was alone.  “Impudent puppy!” said she; “and yet he was right in saying he was not disagreeable to me.  But I’ll never be his wife.  I’d die first!” Still, do what she would, a feeling haunted her that Raymond’s prediction would prove true.  Perhaps it was this which made her so determined to supplant Julia in Dr. Lacey’s good opinion, should he ever presume to think favorably of her.  How she succeeded we shall see hereafter.

CHAPTER XVII