Eugene by no means relished the expression of his sister's countenance. She bade Dr. Harwell adieu, passed her arm through her brother's, and they proceeded to their carriage. The ride was short and silent. On reaching home, Eugene conducted Cornelia into the house, and was about to return when she said imperiously: "A word with you before you go." She entered the sitting room, threw her wrappings on a chair, and began to divest herself of bracelets and necklace. Eugene lighted a cigar and stood waiting to hear what she might choose to communicate. Fastening her brilliant black eyes on his face, she said sneeringly: "Eugene Graham, did you learn dissimulation in the halls of Heidelberg?" "What do you mean, Cornelia?" "Where did you learn to deceive one who believed you pure and truthful as an archangel? Answer me that." Her whole face was a glare of burning scorn. "Insulting insinuations are unworthy of you and beneath my notice," he proudly replied. "Well, then, take the more insulting truth! What crawling serpent of temptation induced you to tell me you expected to marry Beulah? No evasion! I will not be put off! Why did you deceive me with a falsehood I was too stupidly trusting to discover until recently?" "When I told you so I expected to marry Beulah; not so much because I loved her, but because I supposed that she rather considered me bound to her by early ties. I discovered, however, that her happiness was not dependent on me, and therefore abandoned the idea." "And my peerless cousin is to be your bride, eh?" "Yes; she has promised me her hand at an early day." "No doubt. You don't deserve anything better. Beulah scorns you; I see it in her eyes. Marry you! You! Oh, Eugene, she is far too superior to you. You are blind now; but the day will surely come when your charmer will, with her own hand, tear the veil from your eyes, and you will curse your folly. It is of no use to tell you that she is false, heartless, utterly unprincipled; you will not believe it, of course, till you find out her miserable defects yourself. I might thunder warnings in your ears from now till doomsday, and you would not heed me. But whether I live to see it or not, you will bitterly rue your infatuation. You will blush for the name which, as your wife, Antoinette will disgrace. Now leave me."