he paper crushed anew in his grasp, and she experienced an intuition of something momentous impending. "You sent for me, father?" He replied brusquely: "Sit down." She found a chair and settled herself in it. "Now turn the light upon your face." The red glow lighted up a face of exquisite beauty, an eager, passionate face mirroring the spirit of quenchless youth, and her father nodded slightly as if with satisfaction. "Judith--tell me--what day is this?" "My birthday. I am twenty-one." "And your sister's birthday? Rose, too, is twenty-one." A slight frown clouded Judith's face; but she replied quietly: "Yes." "You could have forgotten that," the old man pursued almost mockingly. "Do you dislike your twin sister so intensely?" The girl's voice trembled. "You know," she said, "I hate and despise her." "Why?" "We have nothing in common--beyond parentage and this abominable resemblance. Our natures differ as light from dark