[CHAPTER III.]
LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.
"I wonder what keeps Beatrix so late? I am getting very uneasy about her. It is after dark, and snowing hard. I am very anxious, and besides I've been thinking of the bridge over the river. I don't believe from all accounts that it is half safe. Serena, go to the door and see if she is coming."
Doctor Lynne had grown quite old and feeble in the years that had elapsed since that night of mystery—that momentous tenth of November. He leaned heavily upon his cane, without which he could not walk at all, and turned from the window where he had been stationed for the last half hour.
Serena Lynne glanced up from the depths of the big arm-chair where she sat absorbed in a novel, and a frown disfigured her not very attractive face.
"Why do you bother so about Trix, papa?" she asked, sharply. "The girl is able to take care of herself. It is scarcely dark, and she will be home directly. And she would go, you know, although mamma tried her best to prevent her."
"Go to the door and see if she is coming," repeated Frederick Lynne sternly. "Serena you are utterly devoid of heart. Trix is ten years younger than you and but a child. Poor little thing! if anything has happened to her I shall never forgive myself for permitting her to go."