In the private parlor of a neat hotel in a city not very far from New
York, the true Beatrix Gordon was sitting one lovely morning awaiting
the coming of her husband.
Although Beatrix had deceived and deserted her parents, and foisted
an impostor on the aristocratic Le Roys, she looked positively and
undeniably happy this bright summer morning. Her lovely blonde face,
with its crown of soft golden hair, glowed with love and happiness, and
her beauty was enhanced by her becoming morning-dress of soft pale
blue with delicate trimmings of rich cream tinted lace.
The door opened suddenly, and Cyril Wentworth, her handsome young
husband, entered with a letter in his hand. He kissed his fair young
bride, and held the delicate envelope tantalizingly out of reach.
"At last!" cried young Mrs. Wentworth eagerly, and she sprung upon a
chair and gayly possessed herself of her letter. "It is from my sweet
little Laurel."
She tore it open and ran her eyes quickly over the contents, while her
husband watched her expressive face with deep anxiety.
She finished at last, and turned her fond, smiling blue eyes upon
Cyril's questioning face.
"All goes well," she said. "They have not discovered my charming little
plot yet. Papa and mamma have written, and they are both as well as
usual. Clarice answered their letters, and imitated my hand and style
so well that they were completely imposed upon."
"Clarice must be a clever maid," said Cyril.
"She is," said Beatrix. "Her education is far above that of her class
generally. She was very valuable to me. I hated to part with her,
but I was obliged to send her to Eden to keep up appearances, answer
mamma's letters, and keep Laurel Vane up to her part."
"And when is this farce to end?" asked Cyril.
"Oh, not for several months yet, if I can help it," answered the pretty
bride, looking frightened at the very idea.
"But why keep it up so long? I cannot understand your reluctance to
have your parents learn the truth, love. They cannot forbid the bans
now, for we are united as fast as Church and State can bind us," said
Cyril Wentworth, who had an honest, open nature; and now that he had
won his bonny bride, longed to have the whole world hear what a prize
he had won.
"I have a secret reason, Cyril, darling," said the fair bride, twining
her arms about his neck, and looking up in his face with sweet, shining
eyes. "If Laurel plays her part well and I can keep our marriage a
secret a few months, some great good fortune will come to us, Cyril. If
not--if it is all found out sooner--why, then," with a little contented
sigh, "I shall still have you, my dear. Fate cannot take you from me!"
"I am dying of curiosity, darling," laughed Cyril Wentworth.
"No matter. You shall not hear one word till the time is up," answered
Beatrix, gayly. "I forbid you to even think of the matter again, sir!"
"Your wishes are my law," answered the lover-husband, in a tone as gay
as hers.
"There is one thing that troubles me," she said, presently, running
her eyes again over the letter which she still held open in her hand.
"Laurel writes me that Mrs. Le Roy's son has returned from his European
tour, and is at Eden."
"Why should that trouble you, dearest?" he inquired, tenderly.
"Do you not see that the chances of discovery are doubled, Cyril? Mrs.
Le Roy seldom leaves home, and would be far more likely to be imposed
upon by our little conspiracy than would her keen-witted son. Laurel
writes me that he is keen, critical, brusque. She is afraid of him."
"I have a fancy about this Mr. Le Roy," said Cyril, lightly. "He will
fall in love with the pretty little impostor and marry her."
Beatrix looked grave and troubled at this novel suggestion.
"Oh, _that_ would never do," she cried. "My little Laurel is as
beautiful as a dream, but she is not a fitting mate for St. Leon Le
Roy. He is wealthy and aristocratic, and, I have heard, as proud as
Lucifer. And she--a drunken journalist's daughter! No, no, that would
never do, Cyril. She would not dare! I am not afraid of such a thing.
She shall come and live with me and be like my own sister when her stay
at Eden is over, and we shall find her a husband more suitable to her
than St. Leon Le Roy!"