AM glad to find you alone,” spoke Mr. Robles, as he advanced into the
subdued light of Mrs. Darlington’s boudoir.
She was seated at her escritoire. Around her were letters lying open
for answer, others sealed and ready for the mail, also sundry books of
account which indicated that the chatelaine of La Siesta was a business
woman who paid attention to the running of her household and the
management of her estate.
“Always so pleased to see you,” she replied, as she rose to give her
visitor welcome.
“Pray, keep your seat, Mrs. Darlington. You form an attractive
picture—the lady who is not too much of a lady to neglect her
correspondence and her business affairs. And it is about some business
matters that I have come to talk with you this evening.”
She smiled pleasedly over the compliment paid in the old-fashioned
courtly style of the true Spanish grandee. She herself always suggested
the old-time, old-world lady of fashion—one belonging to the old lace
and sweet lavender era that has so nearly passed away.
“Business matters?” echoed Mrs. Darlington. “That sounds quite serious.
We have had no cause to talk business for years and years. La Siesta has
certainly justified its name.”
“But even the most pleasant siesta must in time come to an end,” he
replied with a grave smile. “There are things in this world that must be
accomplished—calls of duty that interfere sadly with continuous repose.
I am leaving tonight on a journey—perhaps a long journey,” he added
slowly and thoughtfully.
“Oh, going abroad? The wanderlust again? That’s too bad. We shall all
miss you so much.” She spoke the words with real concern in her tone and
in her eyes.
“Not exactly the wanderlust,” he responded. “But there is a certain task
I must perform. And it takes me away—far away from your delightful La
Siesta.”
“And for a long time?”
“That will be decided by events. I shall write you a long letter when
once I am on the ocean. Meanwhile there are certain documents I wish to
leave in your charge, my good kind friend.”
He drew the packet from the breast pocket of his coat. “They are
important papers, and I wish them to be locked in your safe.”
“Under seal, I see,” she remarked, indicating the big circle of wax that
closed the cover.
“Yes, sealed with my signet,” he answered, touching the ring on his
finger. “But all the same I wish you to know the nature of their
contents. That is why I have sought this little private talk.”
Silently she settled herself to listen, and he went on:
“You are aware that many years ago I sold out all my interests in
Spain—lands and flocks and mines. Well, except for the money I used in
building and furnishing my home, I invested the whole amount so realized
in British Government bonds. But not in my own name. They stand in the
names of Merle Farnsworth and Grace Darlington.”
Mrs. Darlington showed some surprise.
“Merle, of course. But why Grace, Mr. Robles? I need not tell you that
she is already well provided for.”
“That I fully understand. But I preferred it so. To me both children
were very dear, and have always continued to be very dear. There was
more than a sufficiency to divide. I wished them to share my patrimony,
even though the one might have a greater claim on me than the other. But
it was precisely, to guard against such a thought occurring to the mind
of any outsider that I have treated Merle and Grace exactly alike. The
secret that Merle is my daughter is known only to you and Tia Teresa and
me, and, as I have always wished, it must be kept from Merle herself and
from all others—now, more than ever,” he added after a little pause.
“I have never sought to pry into this mystery,” replied Mrs. Darlington.
“You had valid reasons for it, I well understood. But I was glad for the
wee baby’s sake to take her to my heart—the child of the dearest friend
of my girlhood days. And it was nice, too, for her to have her mother’s
maiden name—Merle Farnsworth. So, from the very first, I loved her just
as much as my own baby, Grace.”
“That I know,” said Robles, gratefully touching her hand. “I can never
adequately thank you for the mother love you have so generously bestowed
on my child. And I have always been grateful, too, for the chivalrous
manner in which you have never sought to have me explain my actions in
this matter—my virtual separation from the daughter whom, while
hiding our relationship, I have loved all through her young life with
passionate devotion.”
Mr. Robles was deeply moved. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with
his hand. In sympathy, Mrs. Darlington also was greatly affected.
“You have been the best of fathers to Merle,” she said in a trembling
voice, “even though Merle little dreams of what she really means to your
life. But oh, Mr. Robles, how often have I not pitied you when I have
seen you restraining in her presence the natural impulses of your
heart!”
“It was my duty,” he replied, regaining his composure by stern
self-command and sitting erect again. “My bounden duty to her,” he
added, resolutely. “So, as you have so kindly done before, we shall
leave that subject alone. You call it a mystery. Be it so. Just let
it abide a mystery to the end. Now, Mrs. Darlington,” he went on in a
changed tone, “please lock up these papers. If I ever want them again I
shall come to you. But if anything should happen to me, the seal is to
be broken. You are my trustee. But there is no troublesome will to
prove and execute. As I have already indicated, all the property I die
possessed of, all the property that is inalienably and rightfully mine,
including my home on the hill—everything is already apportioned between
Merle and Grace, and stands in their names by a deed that dates back
almost to their days of infancy.”
“It is unheard-of generosity,” protested Mrs. Darlington. “I mean so far
as Grace is concerned.”
“Not another word, I beg of you. I have already given valid reasons
besides those of affection and gratitude. Now, Mrs. Darlington, let me
see you lock up these documents, and my mind will be at rest.”
Without further speech she took the packet of papers from his hand,
crossed the room, and, standing before a safe inset into the wall and
already open, deposited the papers in a little drawer. Then she swung
back the safe door, and the click of the combination as she turned the
knob told that her visitor’s wishes had been fully complied with. Slowly
she returned to her seat at the desk.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Robles, pressing her hand.
“Then I am not to ask why you are leaving us tonight?” enquired Mrs.
Darlington.
“Please not. I just came to you, as I have many times done before, to
speak the little word—Adios. And it has always been spoken brightly
between us, my dear friend. For have I not returned again and again like
the proverbial bad penny?” he continued with a smile.
“And so it will be yet again, I hope,” she replied. “Bad pennies of your
kind, Mr. Robles, are better than minted gold. And you must think of the
young people. Engagements should not be too long. Everything is settled
so far as Dick and Merle are concerned—with your full approval?”
“With my fullest approval, and to my great joy and peace of mind.”
“Well, and you know, too, that it is just the same old story as regards
Chester Munson and my little girl.”
“Munson has so informed me. He wanted my congratulations on his good
fortune. Chester Munson is certainly a fine fellow, and Grace could have
made no better choice for the bestowal of her love. Again I am filled
with happiness at the turn events have taken.”
“But if there are to be wedding bells for four, their peal will not be
so joyous if you are absent, my dear Mr. Robles.”
“I shall try to be present,” he replied, with a little wistful smile.
“Who knows? Wouldn’t it be fine if the wedding bells were to ring in
Spain?”
“No, no, my friend. You forget that all four are young Americans.
The honeymoons in Spain, if you like. But the weddings in California,
please.”
“So be it,” he answered. “Then if I cannot get back for the wedding
bells, we may have a family reunion during the honeymoons.” He laughed
almost gaily as he rose. “Now, where are our young Americans? I wish to
say good-bye to them, too.”
“Where Dick Willoughby is, I cannot say. But he is safe—you still assure
me of his safety, Mr. Robles?”
“Assuredly. And I have good news for our dear Merle. Tomorrow Willoughby
will be free, with every suspicion removed from his name.”
“Oh, that will be glad tidings indeed for Merle—for both the girls.”
“Then let us take the news to them. Where shall we find them?”
“As usual, I fancy, in their favorite cosy corner. And Mr. Munson is
here, too. He is to have luncheon with us. He said you had given him a
day off from his onerous library duties.”
“Quite correct. I told him I would meet him here, for I have a message
for him as well. Come then, let us join the young people.”
Again, like the courtly hidalgo, he presented a hand to his hostess and
led her from the room.