"You have surely forgotten how Beatrix looked," she said. "That canvas represents her truly and perfectly. The best judges have agreed that the portrait is marvelously true to nature. My dear Mrs. Merivale, you are thinking of some one else. I have no other child than Beatrix, and there are no dark eyes in our family." Mrs. Merivale remained silent for a moment. Her face had a dazed expression. "I am _not_ mistaken," she said to herself. "Is it likely I should forget how the girl looked who stole St. Leon from me? She had great black eyes, full of fire and soul. She was rarely beautiful. This portrait looks a mere doll beside her. And yet Mrs. Gordon swears that this is Beatrix Gordon. If it is true, as she says, then there is some mystery about it. What does it mean?" She went back to her seat again and replied to Mrs. Gordon with a light laugh. "Yes, I see now that I was mistaken. I was thinking of some one else. One meets so many fair faces in society." But to herself she was saying: "If there is a mystery, I will find it out. Nothing will please me so well as to injure the girl who married St. Leon Le Roy." But though her suspicions were aroused, they were vague and unformed. She did not dream of the real truth. Before leaving she said, with her most innocent and engaging air: "I have a great mind to run down to Eden with you when you go. It is only recently that I received a letter from Mrs. Le Roy, inviting me to visit her. We are quite old friends, you know. Shall you object to have me make one of your party?" Mrs. Gordon thought it would be rather pleasant than otherwise to have the pretty, vivacious widow accompany them to Eden. She expressed her opinion very graciously, and Mrs. Merivale was delighted. "A thousand thanks," she twittered. "I shall enjoy the trip with you and Mr. Gordon so much. And I do so want to see dear Mrs. Le Roy, and our sweet bride and her husband, who, by the bye, was once my _fiancé_. But that was long ago. I threw him over for Mr. Merivale, who had the most money, although, unfortunately, he sunk a great deal in a foolish speculation after I married him. Ah, well, St. Leon will bear me no ill will now, when he has secured such a bonny bride." She lingered until they had named the day for the trip, then departed, full of vague plans against the happiness of St. Leon's bride. CHAPTER XXXV. Ross Powell had been bitterly chagrined and disappointed at his failure to trace Laurel Vane, after his meeting with her at the gates of Eden.