Tottie was right when she said that several young men were coming to
dinner. They were all more or less at home however; they were
accustomed to the house and its ways. I saw when I entered the
drawing-room that I was the greatest stranger present. Captain
Valentine and his brother were both in the room, but Lady Ursula
Redmayne was not one of Mr Gray's guests. I had thought to startle Mr
Gray by the magnificence and quaintness of my toilet; but I must own
that I forgot all about him when I glanced up and encountered an
earnest, puzzled, respectful look from the wide-open eyes of my cousin
Tom. Like a flash my mind reverted to a memory which a moment ago I had
forgotten. I was back again in my room reading Cousin Geoffrey's will.
I blushed all over as the hateful remembrance of the conditions of that
will filled my brain.
"I cannot see this visit out," I said, under my breath; "I cannot even
spend a second night under this roof. I must go away, I must return
home, for never, never can I fulfil the conditions of Cousin Geoffrey's
will."
At this moment Captain Valentine came up and offered me his arm. I was
relieved to find that my other cousin was not to take me in to dinner;
but matters were scarcely improved for me when I discovered that he sat
exactly at the opposite side of the table, and that I could scarcely
raise my eyes without encountering his.
"We were greatly disappointed not to meet you in the Chamber of Myths,"
said Captain Valentine. "I think Lady Ursula very nearly cried. The
fact is, you have roused her profoundest interest, Miss Lindley."
"I am very much obliged to Lady Ursula," I answered.
"It was cruel to disappoint us all," pursued Captain Valentine,
"particularly when you gave no adequate reason."
"That was just it," I retorted. "Had I come I should not have been
entertaining. I had no news to bring--I had nothing to say."
"But you promised to tell us something of the contents of the letter."
"I found I could not keep my promise. That letter, as far as we, any of
us, are concerned, might as well never have been written."
"Indeed!" Captain Valentine looked at me long and curiously. I kept my
eyes fixed on my plate.
When he spoke next it was on matters of indifference.
Presently there fell a silence over most of the company. Captain
Valentine bent towards me, and said in a low voice, almost a whisper:
"No one can tell a better story than my brother Tom; you must listen to
him."
After this whisper there was a kind of hush, and then the one voice,
deep and musical, began to speak. It held every one under its spell. I
forget the story now, but I shall always remember how the voice of the
speaker affected me; how the turmoil and irritation in my breast first
subsided, then vanished; how Cousin Geoffrey's will sank out of sight;
how his odious conditions ceased to be. By degrees the enthusiasm of
the narrator communicated itself to at least one of his listeners. Tom
Valentine was relating a personal experience, and step by step in that
journey of peril which he so ably described I went with him. I shared
his physical hunger and thirst; I surmounted his difficulties; I lived
in the brave spirit which animated his breast. In the end his triumph
was mine.
I suppose there was something in my face which showed a certain amount
of the feeling within me, for by degrees Tom Valentine ceased to look at
any one but me.
There was quite a little applause in the room when his story came to an
end, but I think he sought and found his reward in the flashing and
enthusiastic verdict which came from my eyes, although my lips said
nothing.
After dinner, in the conservatory, my cousin came up and spoke to me.
"You liked my story?" he asked.
"I did not tell you so," I answered.
"Not with your lips. Sit down here. I have another adventure to
relate, and it is not often that a man's vanity is soothed by such a
listener as you are."
He began to speak at once, and again I forgot Cousin Geoffrey under the
spell of my cousin's voice. He told me two or three more of his
adventures that evening. I made very few comments, but the hours flew
on wings as I listened. No one interrupted us as we sat together in the
conservatory; but although I remembered this fact with burning cheeks,
later on, it passed unnoticed by me at the time. Suddenly my cousin
stopped speaking.
"You have been a very kind listener," he said. "I did not know a girl
could care so much just for a man's mere adventures. I'm going back to
Africa next week. I shall think of you in my next moments of peril."
Then I remembered Cousin Geoffrey's will, and all that Tom Valentine's
going away meant to my family and me.
"Must you go in a week? must you really go in a week?" I said
excitedly.
"I have made my arrangements to go in about a week," he replied,
starting back a little and looking at me in astonishment. I knew why he
looked like that. The regret in my tone had been unmistakable.
Before I could reply Tottie rushed in.
"You two," she exclaimed; "you really must come to make up the number we
want in our round game."
Laughter filled her eyes and bubbled round her lips.
"Come, come," she said; "we can't do without you, or rather the game
can't."