"Why not?" Mrs. Gordon asked, a little gravely.
"It is not the least bit like her," declared Mrs. Merivale, who had left her seat and rustled over to the portrait; "it is utterly unlike her! The eyes are blue here, the hair pale gold; yet your daughter whom I saw at Eden had dark eyes and hair of the darkest golden shade."
Mrs. Gordon laughed lightly.
"You have surely forgotten how Beatrix looked," she said. "That canvas represents her truly and perfectly. The best judges have agreed that the portrait is marvelously true to nature. My dear Mrs. Merivale, you are thinking of some one else. I have no other child than Beatrix, and there are no dark eyes in our family."
Mrs. Merivale remained silent for a moment. Her face had a dazed expression.
"I am not mistaken," she said to herself. "Is it likely I should forget how the girl looked who stole St. Leon from me? She had great black eyes, full of fire and soul. She was rarely beautiful. This portrait looks a mere doll beside her. And yet Mrs. Gordon swears that this is Beatrix Gordon. If it is true, as she says, then there is some mystery about it. What does it mean?"
She went back to her seat again and replied to Mrs. Gordon with a light laugh.
"Yes, I see now that I was mistaken. I was thinking of some one else. One meets so many fair faces in society."
But to herself she was saying:
"If there is a mystery, I will find it out. Nothing will please me so well as to injure the girl who married St. Leon Le Roy."