BETROTHED.

The promise was readily given, for with Keith's dark eyes gazing into her own with that eager, earnest gaze, Beatrix could not have refused, even if she had so desired. And she longed to trust this handsome young lover, who had won her girlish heart completely. What one earnestly wishes to do is usually accomplished, when there is no reason why the obstacles should not be vanquished; and Beatrix was only too glad to place confidence in Keith. She sank into the seat at his side and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Keith,"—her voice low and eager—"you would not deceive me, would you? Remember, I am at your mercy, and I am compelled to believe in you. I must trust you, Keith; I could not live without you now—I could not!"

His eyes lighted up with a rapturous light; he stooped and kissed her white brow.

"Beatrix, darling," he was beginning; but just then the door opened and Serena sailed into the room.

"Well, I must say, Miss Beatrix Dane," she began, taking possession of Keith with an air of proprietorship, "you are a bold creature! I intend to speak to Mr. Dane in regard to your shameless conduct, here all alone with Mr. Kenyon. Go up to your own room and stay there, or I will go to Mr. Dane at once, and he will see that you keep in future your proper place in this house."

Beatrix's eyes blazed; her slight form trembled; she stood trembling, hesitating. But Keith whispered softly:

"Go, dear; I have something to say to this woman. I will explain all when I see you again. Beatrix, you will trust me? You have promised to do so."

"I will."

She left the room with hasty steps. As soon as the drawing-room door had closed behind her, Keith turned to Serena.

"I am glad that you have come back to this room," he began, slowly. "I have something to say to you. Serena, I wrote you a letter which I am very sorry to find you did not receive. In that letter I told you—"

"Oh, Keith! Keith! do not break my heart with unkindness and cruelty now!" she cried, clasping his hand in both her bony ones. "I suppose in your letter you scolded me for some deficiency. I ask you to forgive me for whatever I may have done that has offended or in any way annoyed you. I beg your pardon—I beg your pardon, and I ask you to have pity and say no more. I acknowledge that I was rude to that girl Beatrix Dane; but, oh, Keith! remember that I have had a hard time with her, and much to bear on her account. She left our humble home after my mother had cared for her and acted a mother's part to her for nearly seventeen long years. She left us with the intention of marrying—"

"Hush! That is false—false, Serena, and you know it!" stormed Keith, angrily, losing command of his temper at last. "This poor girl has been wronged. I wonder you dare tell me such tales in regard to her, Serena!"

Serena shook her head slowly, mournfully.

"Truly, you are 'in the snare of the fowler'," she quoted, sagely. "That wicked girl has woven her net about you, and 'you are forever lost'."

"Nonsense!" he cried, angrily. "Serena, I thought you possessed more common sense. Forgive me—I am very rude; but you are driving me wild with your insinuations in regard to Beatrix. However, I wish to speak of something else; I wish to say, Serena, that I have written you in regard to our engagement—the foolish, ill-advised engagement existing between you and me. It has been a mistake from the start, Serena, a great and unwise mistake; we must rectify it now."

"How? Oh, Keith! Keith! don't you care for me at all?"

"I told you, when I asked you to be my wife, that I had no love for you, and yet you were willing to accept me without love. Pardon me, Serena, but when a woman accepts an offer of marriage from a man who openly acknowledges that he does not love her, she must be prepared to accept all the consequences of her own rash and ill-advised act—all the shame, the grief, and humiliation. Serena, I have never loved you—I never shall; and I love another woman with all my heart, and soul, and strength! It is my desire that this foolish engagement be broken off at once—at once. You will thank me some day that I had the courage to put an end to it before it was too late."

Silence, awful silence, settled down upon the room. You could hear distinctly the beating of Serena Lynne's heart, as she sat staring straight before her into space with a numbed, awful look upon her face which might have touched a heart of stone. Keith felt his own heart grow sore with sorrow for her suffering, but he felt that he was doing right, like the surgeon who pities and sympathizes inwardly with the sufferer before him, yet must not hesitate to plunge the sharp, keen knife into the wound, or the sufferer will die. He felt that he must end all this unpleasant complication with Serena before another day had passed, or he could not tell into what trouble his own mad act might lead him.

"I have done wrong," he muttered to himself, "in asking her to marry me. I must have been mad—mad! But it is not too late to rectify the mistake, and I must end this affair at once and forever."

But still Serena sat like a statue and did not speak or move. Keith began to feel uneasy.

"Serena," he said, gently, "I do not wish to wound you, but there must be a final understanding between us now."

"There shall be," she cried, angrily, starting up. "I consider the engagement at an end. I release you! Now, go and marry Beatrix Dane; but my opinion is, that you will rue the day that you were guilty of such mad folly! Good-bye, Keith Kenyon, may you be as happy as you deserve!"

But as she left the room, her face working convulsively, her breath coming in broken gasps, she was whispering softly to herself:

"He shall never marry her—never! I swear that, come what may, Keith Kenyon shall be mine! It is the one object of my life. I shall not give it up without a struggle!"

But slowly and surely the hour was coming when Serena Lynne would be forced to say that all hope was vain.

That very day Keith made up his mind to take a decisive step. He would make Beatrix his wife at once—privately—and then no matter what might happen, she would have him to defend and protect her. And nothing should ever part them, nothing could ever come between them save death. The more he thought of it the more determined did he grow. At last he rose and made his way slowly out into the grounds, lying fair and green in the wintry sunshine as though it were spring. Still weak, Keith felt the balmy air revive him and strengthen him, and found that after a little he was able to walk quite well.

Down in a pretty honeysuckle bower he found Beatrix sitting on a rustic seat, pale and silent. She looked as if she had been crying.

"Beatrix!"

The sound of his voice made an electric thrill run over her. She started to her feet.

"Is it really you—out at last?" she cried. "Oh, Keith! I am so glad!"

He took her hands in his and drew her head down so that he could look into her eyes.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, tenderly, "I want you to be my wife at once—without any delay. Listen. There is nothing between Serena Lynne and me—absolutely nothing—believe me, darling. Now this is my plan: I will send today and procure the license; tomorrow we will drive in the carriage to a clergyman's house—the drive will do me good—and you shall come back my little wife. Then no one can part us—never, while we live. Will you consent, Beatrix?"

The beautiful dark eyes wavered from before his eager, passionate gaze; she trembled like a leaf.

"Say yes, Beatrix. There is no one to object. We have no one to consult. Remember, Uncle Bernard wished us to marry. Say yes, dear, and make me perfectly happy. No one ever loved a woman as I love you, my beautiful brown-eyed darling!"

And so the answer was given—that one little word of three letters which was large enough to cover a whole life-time of future woe. The secret marriage was arranged to take place on the following day. Keith felt a strange dislike to revealing the truth to old Bernard Dane, after what the old man had said concerning a marriage with Beatrix—the very marriage which he had himself first planned. Keith felt certain that Bernard Dane would now bitterly oppose the marriage, and Keith determined that he would not give the old man a chance to do so. So the fatal plot was formed, the secret marriage arranged, and they parted that night with the understanding that on the morrow Beatrix would become Keith Kenyon's wife.

At that very moment, up in her own room, Serena Lynne was hurriedly turning over the contents of her trunk, her face pale as death, her eyes full of hatred. All at once she snatched up from the depths of the trunk a small tin box.

"Ah, Miss Beatrix Dane!" she hissed, revengefully, "if I am not mistaken, I have you in my power at last!"