"His name is Dane—Bernard Dane," returned Keith.
The name acted like magic upon Serena. She started with a suppressed exclamation, and her eyes dilated with wild surprise which was almost terror. Why, that was the name—the very same name—of the old man who had sent for Beatrix; and was she not Beatrix Dane? A slow horror, an unspoken, scarcely tangible suspicion began to creep through her heart. Good heavens! was not fate leading her through devious ways? She shut her thin lips closely together in a straight, narrow line, and her pale eyes gleamed with an unpleasant light.
"I fancy that I am just in time," she muttered, fiercely. "Not a minute too soon, if my suspicions are correct."
Then turning to Keith, she said, imploringly:
"You will surely allow me to stay here for a time, Keith? If Mr. Dane will permit me, you will not object?"
He shook his head slowly. Under the peculiar circumstances what could he say? He could not turn her away, and the great old house was amply provided with accommodations.
"You will be welcome, I am sure," he returned; "and of course your mother will join you here at once. I think you need not ask Mr. Dane's permission to remain, for this is my home, and I am at liberty to invite my friends here. Only, of course, you will understand, Serena, that this is a very quiet old house. No company, no going out to places of amusement. You will have to be satisfied with an exceedingly quiet life."
"I shall be with you," she made answer, as though that argument covered all defects.
Keith sighed.