his death, and about the same time,
too, she heard that the wife of Ernest Hamilton was dying. Suddenly a
wild scheme entered her mind. She would remove to the village of
Glenwood, would ingratiate herself into the favor of Mrs. Hamilton,
win her confidence and love, and then when she was dead the rest she
fancied would be an easy matter, for she knew that Mr. Hamilton was
weak and easily flattered.

For several weeks they had been in Glenwood, impatiently waiting an
opportunity for making the acquaintance of the Hamiltons. But as
neither Margaret nor Carrie called, Lenora became discouraged, and one
day exclaimed, "I should like to know what you are going to do. There
is no probability of that proud Mag's calling on me. How I hate her,
with her big black eyes and hateful ways!"

"Patience, patience," said Mrs. Carter, "I'll manage it; as Mrs.
Hamilton is sick, it will be perfectly proper for me to go and see
her," and then was planned the visit which we have described.

"Oh, won't it be grand!" said Lenora that night, as she sat sipping
her tea. "Won't it be grand, if you do succeed, and won't I lord it
over Miss Margaret! As for that little white-faced Carrie, she's too
insipid for one to trouble herself about, and I dare say thinks you a
very nice woman, for how can her Sabbath-school teacher be otherwise;"
and a satirical laugh echoed through the room. Suddenly springing up,
Lenora glanced at herself in the mirror, and turning to her mother,
said, "Did you hear when Walter is expected--and am I so very ugly
looking?"

While Mrs. Carter is preparing an answer to the first question, we,
for the sake of our readers, will answer the last one. Lenora was a
little dark-looking girl about eighteen years of age. Her eyes were
black, her face was black, and her hair was black, standing out from
her head in short, thick curls, which gave to her features a strange
witch-like expression. From her mother she had inherited the same
sweet, cooing voice, the same gliding, noiseless footsteps, which had
led some of their acquaintance to accuse them of what, in the days of
New England witchcraft, would have secured their passport to another
world.

Lenora had spoken truthfully when she said that she had not been
trained by such a mother for nothing, for whatever of evil appeared in
her conduct was more the result of her mother's training than of a
naturally bad disposition. At times her mother petted and caressed
her, and aga