"Uncle Bernard!"—Beatrix's voice was low and hurried. She shrank from the interview, yet she felt that she must go through with it—"I have intruded upon you to ask you a question. I am here to demand of you the secret of my mother's life and death. Why is her portrait hidden away in the round room, with its face turned to the wall? What is this secret which killed her, and which her own handwriting declares is destined to descend, like a curse, upon the head of her child? Uncle Bernard, I must have an answer! This silence is unjust; it is cruel; it is maddening! Tell me, what is this secret connected with my mother? I will know!"
The old man's face was a study as he stood listening to her eager outburst, his keen, dark eyes fixed upon her face with a penetrating look in their depths. He shook his gray head.
"My dear, I will not. Now, that is all, and it is quite useless to ask me any more questions. And there is no one else in the world who can enlighten you; so it will be useless to seek information elsewhere. Beatrix, my child, why torture yourself in this way? Be content as you are, and do not seek to look back upon the past, or trouble yourself in regard to the future. See here, child!"—the old man's voice softened insensibly—"you must believe that I am acting for your good. When you first came here I resolved upon a step, the very thought of which now fills my heart with horror. I had wished to see you and Keith married, but now—Oh, my God! I would sooner see you both in your graves."
"Uncle!"
"It is true—too true, Beatrix. I am going to send you away from this place. If you remain here, you and Keith will marry, even against my wishes—I feel it. And it would be better—much better for you to be dead and buried than to take such a step. Do you hear me, Beatrix?"
"Yes, sir," the sweet voice trembling, but in the great dark eyes a look of determination. Ah, Bernard Dane, your warning comes too late! You have sowed and you must reap. If a man sows tares he can not harvest wheat. She turned and left him alone without another word. Give up Keith Kenyon? Not if she knew it; on the contrary, the girl felt more determined than ever to become Keith's wife.
"He is the only creature in the wide world who loves me, and I love him with all my heart. My darling! I will be his wife, and we can not help being happy, even though Uncle Bernard should disinherit him."
She went to her own room and sat down to think over the situation. She did not wish to disobey her uncle; but Bernard Dane had no right to dispose of her as though she were a toy, a puppet in his hands. She would not endure it.
"Good heavens! how unjust!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "He did all in his power to make us care for each other, and now, when it is too late, he wants to separate us. He must be mad!"
As she sat there absorbed in reverie, a message came from Keith asking her to come out into the grounds. She made haste to obey the summons, and once out in the grounds together, they discussed the coming event.