A proud inclination of her head was all the reply to this query. She dare not trust her voice just then. “And you say these jewels were given to you about that time?” Another bow. “The rich clothing, and other trifles which you have, were they given to you also?” “Yes, madam!” “And all by this same dear friend?” A peculiar look accompanied this question, while Isabel’s eyes gleamed in wicked triumph. She could see whither these questions were tending, if innocent Brownie did not. “They were,” she said. “Was this friend a gentleman, Miss Douglas?” For one moment there came into the young girl’s lovely eyes a look of perplexity and astonishment, followed by one of blank horror. Then all the royal blood in her Douglas veins sprang to arms! The rich color surged up from her enraged heart over her neck and face; up, up, as the full force of this horrible thought nearly drove her mad, until it lost itself among the bands of shining hair, and tingled to her fingertips. Then it all receded, leaving her colorless as marble, and, in her proud indignation, like some avenging spirit. “Mrs. Coolidge,” she said, in the same quiet, ladylike tones, but they made the woman shiver notwithstanding, “your language and insinuation is the grossest insult to me, and again I demand an immediate explanation.” “Isabel, bring me that box,” said Mrs. Coolidge, pointing to Brownie’s casket, which stood upon the table behind her. Miss Coolidge obeyed and Brownie uttered a cry of astonishment as she saw it. “How came you by that? Where did you get it?” she said, starting forward her lips quivering, and a choking sensation in her throat. Her dear, precious casket, still sacred from the last fond touches of Miss Mehetabel’s hand, profaned by their ruthless handling! But all this emotion was but an evidence of guilt in the eyes of those hard-hearted women. “Is not that guilt, mamma, if you ever saw it?” whispered Isabel in her mother’s ear. She nodded her head sternly, and then turned to face her victim again. “I will explain, Miss Douglas. The jewels which you wore to the opera are in this box with others of much greater value. Were these others given to you?” “They were.” “At the same time?” “At the same time, Mrs. Coolidge.” “By whom?” “I decline to answer that question, madam,” came defiantly from the young girl’s compressed lips. She had been insulted, abused; she would bear nothing more from them. They—these evil-minded, jealous women—had gone to her room like thieves and hunted among her possessions to satisfy their low-born curiosity, and having found something which they could not clearly understand, they were determined to make use of it to crush her. Mrs. Coolidge could scarcely restrain her anger at Brownie’s defiance. She was very curious to know the history of those jewels, that attractive picture, and that dancing card with its high-sounding names.