the look that came over
Willis Starr's face. It passed quickly, but the chill fear that it
gave me remained. A few minutes later I left the room on some trifling
errand, and as I returned through the dim hall I was met by Willis
Starr. He laid his hand on my arm and bent his evil face--for it _was_
evil then, Amy--close to mine.

"'Tell me,' he said in a low but rude tone, 'is there another Eliza
Laurance who is an heiress?'

"'Certainly there is,' I said sharply. 'She is our cousin and the
daughter of our Uncle George. Our Eliza is not an heiress. You surely
did not suppose she was!'

"Willis stepped aside with a mocking smile.

"'I did--what wonder? I had heard much about the great heiress, Eliza
Laurance, and the great beauty, Eliza Laurance. I supposed they were
one and the same. You have all been careful not to undeceive me.'

"'You forget yourself, Mr. Starr, when you speak so to me,' I retorted
coldly. 'You have deceived yourself. We have never dreamed of allowing
anyone to think that Eliza was an heiress. She is sweet and lovely
enough to be loved for her own sake.'

"I went back to the parlour full of dismay. Willis Starr remained
gloomy and taciturn all the rest of the evening, but nobody seemed to
notice it but myself.

"The next day we were all so busy that I almost forgot the incident
of the previous evening. We girls were up in the sewing room putting
the last touches to the wedding gown. Eliza tried it and her veil on
and was standing so, in all her silken splendour, when a letter was
brought in. I guessed by her blush who was the writer. I laughed and
ran downstairs, leaving her to read it.

"When I returned she was still standing just where I had left her in
the middle of the room, holding the letter in her hand. Her face was
as white as her veil, and her wide-open eyes had a dazed, agonized
look as of someone who had been stricken a mortal blow. All the soft
happiness and sweetness had gone out of them. They were the eyes of an
old woman, Amy.

"'Eliza, what is the matter?' I said. 'Has anything happened to
Willis?'

"She made no answer, but walked to the fireplace, dropped the letter
in a bed of writhing blue flame and watched it burn to white ashes.
Then she turned to me.

"'Help me take off this gown, Winnie,' she said dully. 'I shall never
wear it again. There will be no wedding. Willis is gone.'

"'Gone!' I echoed stupidly.

"'Yes. I am not the heiress, Winnie. It was the fortun