A MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW.

Alone in her room that night, Beatrix sat down at the open window to think over the new life so soon to be unfolded to her. Keith Kenyon's wife! No position in the world could be so desirable; no girl was ever so happy as she.

"He is so noble, so good, so grand!" she thought to herself, her fair cheek flushing with rapture at thought of her lover's perfections. How noble he appeared in her eyes! How handsome, how manly! To her there was but one man worth looking at in the world—handsome Keith Kenyon.

The moments glided by, still the girl sat there wrapped up in her own thoughts. Only think, tomorrow at this time she would be his wife—his wife! Surely there could be nothing more to be desired on earth.

"How hard I will try to please him and to make him happy!" she whispered softly to herself, her eyes fixed upon the calm, starlit sky above her head, her heart beating fast with rapture. "Oh, Keith!" she murmured half aloud, "I pray the good God to make me worthy of your great love. I will be a true and faithful wife, and all the rest of my life shall be dedicated to making you happy—my Keith! my king!"

As the words passed her lips some subtle instinct warned her that she was no longer alone. She turned her head, and her face grew pale as death as her eyes fell upon the form of Serena—Serena Lynne watching her with intense hatred in the depths of her evil eyes. With a stifled cry Beatrix started to her feet. Serena glided swiftly, softly to her side.

"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!"

Serena's face was pale to ghastliness; her form shook perceptibly, her eyes scintillated. She was a very unlovely picture of anger—impotent, restrained rage—as she stood there.

"Be careful!" she hissed; "be careful, Beatrix Dane! I give you fair warning; you are treading upon dangerous ground; you are making a grave mistake. It would be better for you if you had died when you were born rather than to cross my wishes. Now, answer me one question. You think that you love Keith Kenyon—would your love change or alter if you were to learn that he is no longer wealthy; that old Bernard Dane has altered his will, and intends leaving his fortune elsewhere? How would you like to be Mrs. Keith Kenyon and live in a cot, and do your own housework, and be compelled to see him toil like a slave from day to day, because he had taken upon him the burden of a wife? Answer me that, Beatrix Dane! Is your love unselfish enough to give him up rather than see him reduced to that?"

"My love is great enough and unselfish enough to make any sacrifice for his welfare," returned Beatrix, her sweet voice trembling audibly; "but it would not make him happy to give me up. I am willing to share poverty with him. Does not the marriage service bind us 'for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer'? Oh, Serena! you must have a strange opinion of my love if you think that I would turn away from him because he had lost his inheritance."

"His inheritance!" cried Serena, scornfully; "and, pray, what is yours? Do you suspect? Ah! my young friend, if you knew, if you held in your possession the fatal truth which I have good reason to believe is connected with your life, you would commit suicide rather than marry Keith Kenyon."

"Serena, I have heard enough of this," retorted Beatrix, her temper getting beyond her control. "Be good enough to retire; for it is very late, and I am tired and sleepy."

"Ah, yes, to be sure!" sneered Serena. "You long to be asleep that you may dream of your handsome, dark-eyed lover! But wait a moment, Beatrix Dane. This is the last time that I shall trouble you. Will you heed me when I say that I have reason to believe that you are destined to wreck and ruin Keith Kenyon's life? There is something that you have yet to learn concerning yourself; and when you do learn it, you will curse the hour that you promised to become his wife—something which will ruin and curse his whole existence as well as your own, and make life a scene of horror to you both! Will you believe me when I say—"

But Beatrix could bear no more. She moved swiftly to Serena's side, and laying her hand upon her arm, led her to the door and opened it.

"Now, go!" she commanded.

And Serena was so overwhelmed with astonishment that she silently obeyed.

Beatrix closed the door sharply and turned the key in the lock, and, left alone at last, she prepared to retire.

She was soon asleep, and her last thoughts were of Keith Kenyon and how dear he was to her. She thought, too, of Serena's strange words and hidden threats; but she could see too plainly that Serena was half insane with jealous hatred, and Beatrix shut her heart upon her vile insinuations. And so at length she sank away in peaceful slumber, unconscious of the dark clouds slowly but surely gathering about her, and soon to break in awful ruin upon her defenseless head.

A strange future—a strange fate—lay spread out before her—a thorny path for her little feet to tread.

Had she known the bitter truth, Beatrix would not have wished to awaken again in this world. But she did not know, and it was well that she did not; for the knowledge of her awful fate—her dark inheritance—would have driven her mad. And yet, some day she must know—she must know! Poor child! let her dream on now in innocent unconsciousness of what the future has in store for her. Soon enough the day will come when Beatrix Dane will pray for the boon of death, the peace and quiet of the grave!

In the meantime, alone in her own room, Serena sat before a table upon which she had placed the tin box. She looked like a fiend gloating over the possession of another human soul as her long fingers touched carefully the scorched and blackened fragments of that fatal letter which Doctor Lynne's last act on earth was to destroy, hoping to hide forever the secret which it contained.

"I will do it!" muttered Serena, hoarsely, her eyes sparkling with hatred and malice. "I will take these papers tomorrow to an expert—I know just where to find one—and I think they can be deciphered. And—then"—arising to her feet and clinching her cold hands fiercely together—"Miss Beatrix Dane, I shall hold you in the hollow of my hand!"