“I was once engaged to him,” Juliette answered. “I will take it away,” she added, hurrying out of the room to conceal her chagrin at the failure of her first test. She could not decide whether the accident had been a real one or not. Pansy had carried it out with such perfect ease that she began to falter in her belief that this was Pansy Laurens. “I may possibly be mistaken, but the likeness is so startling that I shall test her in every way,” she decided. The next morning Pansy appeared at their late breakfast in such an exquisite and becoming morning gown that Juliette could not repress her admiration, in spite of the anger with which she saw her uncle’s wife take her place in front of the coffee urn. “I thought you would be too tired to pour coffee this first morning,” she said, almost angrily. “Oh, no, indeed. I feel quite well, thank you,” was the bright reply, and, as her white hands fluttered like birds over the china and silver, she continued: “Colonel Falconer, I hope you are going to take me for a long drive to-day so that I may see some of the beauties of your historic Richmond.” “Just what I was thinking of, my love,” said her husband. “You will join us, will you not, Juliette?” “Gladly,” she replied, thinking that she would thereby have another opportunity of testing Pansy’s identity. After breakfast Pansy invited her to come upstairs, where her maid was unpacking her trunks, saying that she had brought her some presents from London. “Of course, as I had never seen you, I could not have decided what would be most becoming to you had not my husband assisted me with a description of your style and tastes,” she said. And when Juliette saw the beautiful gifts that had been chosen for her she could not help being pleased, both with the taste and generosity displayed by Pansy, whom she thanked quite prettily, saying: “I did you an injustice, feeling jealous of uncle’s love for you, when all the time you were planning these pleasant surprises for me.” Pansy hardly knew whether to trust these sweet protestations or not. She would have liked to be at peace with Juliette Ives, but she could not help distrusting her, and she resolved to watch her closely before she quite discarded her distrust. Juliette lay lazily back in a great crimson chair and watched Phebe, the maid, unpacking Pansy’s beautiful clothes. She was obliged to own that she had never seen such a magnificent trousseau as that with which Colonel Falconer had provided his lovely bride. “You are a woman to be envied, Mrs. Falconer,” she said; and Pansy sighed faintly, although Juliette could not have told whether the sigh meant supreme content or some hidden sorrow. “She does not look as if she had always been really happy. There are pensive curves about her lips when she is not smiling, and now and then her eyes look anxious,” the girl decided.