VERA RAYNE.
The conversation became more general now, so that it was possible a
moment later for Ravenspur to slip out of the studio without his
absence being observed. He went swiftly away to the library, where he
hastily dashed off a note, which he handed over to a servant to be
delivered immediately. He seemed to be somewhat easier in his mind
now, for the smile had come back to his lips. The smile became deeper,
and a shade more tender, as a young girl came into the room. She had
evidently just returned from some social function, for she was in
evening dress, with a light silken cloud thrown over her fair hair.
Save for the brilliancy of her eyes, and the happy smile upon her
lips, she bore a strong resemblance to the mysterious photograph,
which had so disturbed Ravenspur a little time before. She crossed the
room gaily, and kissed Ravenspur lightly on the cheek.
"So your friends have all gone?" she asked.
"No; they are still in the studio. But, tell me, have you had a very
enjoyable evening? And how is it that you are back so soon?"
A faint splash of colour crept into the girl's cheeks. She seemed to
be just a little embarrassed by the apparently simple question.
"Oh, I don't know," she said. "One gets tired of going out every
night. And it was rather dull. I daresay all this sounds very
ungrateful when you give me everything I could desire. But I am
longing to get into the country again. It seems almost a crime for
people to shut themselves up in dusty London, when the country is
looking at its very best. Do you know, I was far happier when I was
down in Hampshire."
"Well, we can't have everything our own way," Ravenspur smiled.
"Still, we shall see what will happen later on. And now, I really must
go back again to my guests."
Vera Rayne threw herself carelessly down into a chair. A little sigh
escaped her lips. She ought to have been happy enough. She had all the
blessings that good health and great wealth could procure. And yet
there were crumpled rose leaves on her couch of down. The thoughtful
look on her face deepened. She sat there so deeply immersed in her own
reflections, that she was quite oblivious to the fact that she was no
longer alone. Walter Lance had come into the room. He addressed the
girl twice before he obtained any response. Then she looked up, and a
wistful, tender smile lighted up her beautiful face.
"I was thinking," she said. "Do you know, Walter, I have been thinking
a good deal lately. I suppose I am naturally more discontented than
most girls, but I am getting very tired of this sort of life. Pleasure
is so monotonous."
"Ungrateful," Walter laughed. He came and stood close to the speaker's
side so that he could see down into the depths of her eyes, which were
now turned fully upon his. "There are thousands of girls who envy your
fortunate lot."
"I don't know why they should. You see, it is all very well for me to
go on like this. It is all very well to be a fascinating mystery. The
time has come when I ought to know things. For instance, I should like
to know who I really am."
"What does it matter?" Lance asked. "What does it matter so long as
I--so long as we all care for you. My dear girl, you pain me. And when
you speak in that cold, not to say arbitrary way, as if--as
if--really, Vera! It isn't that I want you to be more worldly than you
are----"
"But then you see, I am not worldly, Walter. And I really should like
to know who I am, and where I came from. It is all very well to tell
people that I am the daughter of an old friend of Lord Ravenspur, and
that he adopted me when my father died. That is sufficient for our
friends and acquaintances, and seems to satisfy them, but it does not
satisfy me. When I ask Lord Ravenspur about my parents he puts me off
with one excuse or another, and if I insist he becomes quite stern and
angry. He is so good to me that I don't like to bother him. And yet I
can't go on like this."
Walter Lance looked somewhat uneasily at the speaker.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"My dear Walter, I mean exactly what I say," Vera said sadly. "I am
tired of this constant round of pleasure. Really, it seems to me that
the lives of the rich are quite as monotonous as those of the poor. We
go our weary round of dinner and dance and reception, varied by an
occasional theatre or concert. We see the same faces, and take part in
the same vapid conversation---- Oh, Walter, how much nicer it would be
to get one's own living!"
"How would you get yours?" Lance laughed.
"Well, at any rate, I could try. And that is what I am going to do,
Walter. I have fully made up my mind not to stay here any longer.
Don't think that I am ungrateful, or that I do not recognise Lord
Ravenspur's great kindness to me. But you see I have no claim upon
him, and if anything happened to him tomorrow what would my position
be? I know he has a large income from his property, but that will go
to his successor some day. Oh, I know you will think that this is very
hard and cold of me, but there are reasons, many and urgent reasons,
why it is impossible----"
Vera broke off abruptly, and Walter could see that the tears had
gathered in her eyes. There was something in those eyes, too, that
caused his heart to beat a trifle faster, and brought him still closer
to her side.
"Won't you tell me what it is?" he whispered. "We have always been
such good friends, Vera. Forgive me asking you, but isn't this
decision on your part rather a sudden one?"
"Oh, I am quite prepared to admit that," the girl said candidly, "and
I wish I could explain. But you would not understand--was there ever a
man yet who really understood a woman? The thing that you call impulse
. . . I know that Lord Ravenspur had his own ideas as to my future,
the same as he has in regard to yours."
"Oh, indeed," Walter said drily; "that is news to me. And in what way
is my uncle interested in my welfare?"
"Do you mean to say he hasn't told you? He has mentioned it to me at
least a score of times. You are going to marry Lady Clara Vavasour.
That much is settled."
"Really, now, that is very kind of my uncle. But, unfortunately, I
have views of my own on the subject. Lady Clara is a very nice girl,
and I understand that she is rich, but she does not appeal to me in
the least. My dear Vera, surely you are mistaken. Surely my uncle must
have guessed, he could not be so blind as not to see--Vera, dearest,
cannot you understand what I mean? Do you suppose that I could
possibly have known you all this time without--without---- You know, I
am certain that you know."
"Oh, no, no," Vera cried; "you must not speak like that. I cannot
listen to you. I know that Lord Ravenspur has set his heart upon this
marriage, and it would be the basest ingratitude on my part if
I----but what am I talking about?"
The girl broke off in some confusion. The faint pink oh her cheeks
turned to a deeper crimson. Her eyes were cast down; she did not seem
to realise that Walter had her hands in his, that he had drawn her
close to his side.
"I must speak," he said huskily. "Even at the risk of your thinking me
the most conceited man on earth, I must tell you what is uppermost in
my mind now. My dear girl, I have known you ever since you were a
little child. From the very first we have been the best of friends. I
have watched you change from a girl to a woman. I have watched your
mind expanding, and gradually I have come to know that you are the one
girl in the world for me. I have not spoken like this before, because
there seemed to be no need to do so. Everything was so natural, there
did not appear to be any other end to a love like mine. But if I have
been wrong, and if you tell me that you care nothing for me----"
"I couldn't," Vera whispered. "Oh, Walter, if you only knew----"
"Then you do care for me, my dearest. Yes, I can see it in your face,
there is always the truth in your eyes. And now I can speak more
freely. You were going away from here out of loyalty to my uncle, and
because you deem it your duty to sacrifice your feelings rather than
interfere with his plans. But, my dear girl, don't you see what a
needless sacrifice it would be? Don't you see that any such action on
your part would be worse than useless? But I will speak to you about
this tomorrow. I am quite sure he is not the man to stand between us
and our happiness. Would that I had thought of this before. I am sure
that it would have saved you many an anxious moment."
Vera shook her head sadly. Walter's arms were about her now, her head
rested on his shoulder. Just for the moment they were absolutely
oblivious to the world. They heard nothing of the sound of voices as
Lord Ravenspur's guests drifted away; they were unconscious that he
was standing in the doorway, now regarding them with stern
disapproval. He hesitated just a moment, then he strode into the room.
Walter had never seen his face so hard and cold before.
"I am sorry to intrude," he said, "but there is something I have to
say to you, Walter. It is getting late now, Vera, and quite time that
you were in bed."
The girl looked up with something like rebellion in her eyes.
"I am going into the drawing-room for half an hour," she said.
"Perhaps Walter will come and say goodnight to me when you have
finished your conversation. I think you understand what I mean. And
don't be too hard on me. If you only knew how I have tried to do
what--what----"
The tears rose to Vera's eyes, as she turned slowly and sadly away.