“Upstart, indeed! I’ll warrant that there is better blood now in her veins than ever flowed in ours. She has been born and bred a lady, which is more than I can say of you. There is some mystery about her, I admit; but, mark my words, the time will come when both of you will be glad to cultivate her acquaintance, and when you will rue the day that you, led on by your curiosity and covetousness, ever meddled with her treasures, and drove her from your house by your abuse.”
Wilbur Coolidge spoke indignantly and at random, but in after months he remembered his words, and wondered at the truth of his prophecy.
Before he had concluded there came a rap upon the door.
Isabel opened it.
A servant stood without bearing a silver salver, upon which lay a card.
“A gentleman to see Miss Douglas,” he said, bowing respectfully.
“A gentleman to see Miss Douglas!” repeated Mrs. Coolidge, contemptuously, while Isabel pounced upon the card and read the name, “Adrian Dredmond.”
The color flushed over her fair face in a scarlet flood.
“There is some mistake here,” she said, sharply, to her servant.
Then turning to her mother, she added: