"Doctor Lynne,—The time has come for you to know the truth concerning the child of your adoption, Beatrix Dane. The accompanying letter contains a full explanation. When you have read it, you will see that it is best for you to send her to me now. Let her come to New Orleans, to the inclosed address, as soon as possible. You will receive a remittance for all her necessary expenses, by registered mail, in a few days. When that arrives, send Beatrix Dane to me. The time has come when she must learn the hideous secret connected with her birth—when she must face her own future, and enter upon her heritage of woe.
"Bernard Dane."
[CHAPTER IV.]
A MAD PASSION.
Cold and still in death, Frederick Lynne sat in his big arm-chair, one icy hand clutching the letter which bade Beatrix face an unknown and dreaded future—face it all alone. Mrs. Lynne stood near, crying aloud in terrified accents for help, for succor, her face as white as the dead man's, when Beatrix entered the room. One swift glance, which did not comprehend the situation—for poor Beatrix knew nothing of the horrors of death, and had never faced it before—one swift, terrified glance, and she flew to the dead man's side.
"Papa! oh, papa!" she cried in an agonized voice, "what is the matter, dear? Are you ill? Are you—"
"Hush!" Mrs. Lynne's bony hand came down upon the girl's arm with emphasis. "Be quiet, you baby!" she panted. "Can't you see that he is—is dead?"
The girl fell back as though the heavy hand had struck her a blow; her great dark eyes dilated with horror; the small hands clinched each other spasmodically; her breath came and went in short, panting; gasps. Could it be true? Was this grim death before her? Was the kindly heart—the heart of her only friend—cold and still forever? It could not—could not be!
"Dead?" she repeated, blankly, her lips quivering over the awful word—"dead? Oh, no, Mrs. Lynne! surely you are mistaken! Let us try to do something for him. I will call Serena to stay with you, and I will go for help. I can ride the gentleman's horse—Mr. Kenyon's—it is here, you know. I will go over to town and get Doctor Stone."