"What are you doing in my room at this hour?" demanded Beatrix, sternly. "How dare you intrude upon my privacy without an invitation? What evil errand brings you here?"
Serena's eyes snapped; she set her teeth down hard upon her thin under lip, and clenched her hands as though she would like to clasp them around the girl's white throat.
"Upon what errand do I intrude here at this late hour?" she repeated, hissing the words sibilantly forth from between her clenched teeth. "I will very soon enlighten you, Miss Beatrix Dane. I have come here to ask you a question. Is it your intention to marry Keith Kenyon? Ah, yes! I know—I suspect—a great deal. I have released him from the engagement between us; but I have only done so for a purpose. I wished to bring him to his senses in regard to you, and I think that I shall be able to do so. I have laid a plan, and the first step was to sever all ties between Keith Kenyon and myself, and then—then I come to you as an auxiliary in the next move in the game—a game played for the welfare of Keith Kenyon—his future happiness! Beatrix Dane, I demand of you, is it your intention to marry this man—this man who belongs to me in the sight of God? Answer me! I demand it! I will have the truth!"
But Beatrix did not reply. She sat gazing out into the misty night, her eyes full of bitter sorrow.
She was conscious of nothing—she heard nothing, saw nothing—only over and over in her ears those words hard and cruel repeated themselves: "This man who belongs to me in the sight of God!"
"Will you answer me?"
Serena's voice cut across the silence like a knife.
Beatrix started, and a shudder ran over her slender frame.
"Yes; I will answer you," she returned, bravely. "I am going to do as I think best in this matter, Serena; and I certainly shall not consult your wishes. Keith Kenyon is nothing to you—nothing—less than nothing!"