"Friend? He is more than a mere friend!" she said, eagerly; "he is my cousin by adoption, and—and, Beatrix, I have never told you before; but I expect to be his wife some day!"
"Impossible!"
The word fell from Beatrix Dane's lips unawares. In an instant she realized the mistake that she had made.
"I—I beg your pardon!" she faltered; "I did not mean to offend you, Serena!"
"Offend?" Serena's thin lips parted in a disagreeable smile. "You could not offend me if you tried; not you—a nameless nobody!" she sneered. "And whatever you may say or think in regard to the matter, the truth remains—I am engaged to marry Keith Kenyon. Are you satisfied? What else, do you imagine, has brought him to this out-of-the-way place? It seems that he telegraphed to papa that he was coming; but the stupid idiots at the station neglected to send the message out here. I shall be glad when I get away from this hateful, dead-and-alive hole, and live in a large city, in an elegant house, with everything that heart can wish. Keith's home is in New Orleans, and I have always felt a great desire to visit the South."
New Orleans! The name aroused Beatrix with a little start. For the first time since her arrival home she remembered the letter that had come from New Orleans for Doctor Lynne. She searched hastily in the pocket of her dress for the missive. Yes, it was there, all safe.
"I must see papa at once," she observed, rising to her feet.
"Papa, indeed!" mimicked Serena, contemptuously. "If I were you I would wait until I could prove my right to call any one by that name before I—"
"Hush! Not another word! I will hear no more of your insolence. Leave my room, Serena Lynne, and never enter it again until you can treat me with proper respect."