CARMELA SAYS "YES."
Meanwhile, quite unaware of the troubles in which Vassalla was
involved, Carmela was enjoying herself very much at Bellfield. She was
in much better spirits than she had been previously, as her
conversation with Foster and Ronald had relieved her mind of a great
weight, and she had come to the conclusion that her sister was not
guilty, in which case she would not have to marry her cousin. Everyone
stopping at Bellfield was in excellent spirits, and so Carmela felt
the influence of merry company, and was as gay and joyous as anyone
present.
It being Bell's birthday, they decided to celebrate it with a picnic
at Medmenham Abbey, and were all down at Hurley Lock, embarking in the
boats. Pat was especially exuberant, as he had discovered, beyond all
doubt, that Miss Lester was in love with him, and he was only waiting
for a good opportunity to propose. A merrier party were never on the
river than the young people from Hurley.
And what a delightful morning it was on the river in this glowing July
weather. They had no servants with them, as Sir Mark preferred full
freedom for once, and the young men rowed the boats quickly up,
passing other gay parties on the way.
Up the placid stream they went, past Lady Place, with its quaint old
roof and mellow-tinted walls, under the arched wooden bridge that
springs over the Thames; up through the still waters with the broad
green meadows on each side, filled with quiet cattle, until the gables
of the Ferry Hotel at Medmenham came in sight, and here they went on
shore. They found the lawn crowded with young men in flannels, and
young ladies in boating costumes; went to the ruins of the old Abbey,
with all its memories of the Hell-fire Club, and the orgies they held
therein.
It is said that the present Abbey is a pinchbeck affair, and the only
genuine ruins of the old Abbey are to be found in the solitary pillar
which stands at the back, near the haystacks; but surely the great
building, with its ruined tower, overgrown with ivy; its quaint
windows, scribbled all over with names, and its low-roofed door, with
the famous motto, "Fay ce que voudrais," are genuine enough.
After they had explored the Abbey, all the party strolled away inland
to see the lions of the locality. An old-fashioned street it is that
leads through the village of Medmenham, with the flint-built houses on
either side, overgrown with ivy, and one can imagine a cavalier, after
the defeat of unlucky Charles Stuart, spurring swiftly down the lonely
road, in his wild flight for safety.
Then the church, with the square Norman tower, around which the rooks
are always wheeling and cawing, casting its mighty shadow over the
green grass, beneath which the quiet dead sleep soundly, as they have
done for so many hundred years. Opposite the church stands the "Dog
and Badger," a very old hostel, with mellow-tinted roofs and numerous
gables, and within, low-ceilinged rooms with great beams overhead, and
queer, twisted staircases and unexpected cupboards all over the house.
At the back, high up on the hill, and commanding a magnificent view of
the Thames Valley, stands the stern-looking old farm-house, said to
have been mentioned in the Domesday Book, and where Charles II. and
pretty, witty Nell Gwynne are reported to have stayed for a night.
Then, farther on, the quiet little village of Hambledon, through which
it is said Charles I. rode with a brilliant train of gallant
cavaliers, on his way to meet his rebellious subjects. The whole
neighbourhood is full of antiquities and traditions, which lend a
peculiar charm to the place.
When they grew weary of sight-seeing, the whole party went down again
to the river, and getting into the boats, rowed up the stream for a
considerable distance, and ultimately decided to hold their picnic
just below Hambledon Lock, with the pleasant murmur of the Weir in
their ears.
Such a scene of confusion, getting out the luncheon--everyone seated
round in attitudes graceful and otherwise, with the clatter of dishes,
the popping of champagne corks, and a perfect Babel of voices.
"This is jolly," said Pat, with his mouth full. "I'm fond of Arcadian
simplicity."
"Especially when it's accompanied by champagne," cried Bubbles,
raising his glass to his lips.
"Begad, you're not slow in finding out what I mean," said Ryan,
laughing, and filling his glass.
"Imitation's the sincerest flattery," observed Miss Lester, gaily,
trying to cut up a rather wiry chicken. "I believe this fowl was a
pedestrian, his legs are so tough."
"Try some of the breast," said Sir Mark; "at all events, it hasn't got
eight legs, like the birds you get on board ship."
"That's true enough," cried Pat; "everyone seems to get legs of fowls
on board--perhaps they're like Manx men,--got three legs."
"Or a hundred, like a centipede," said Bubbles.
"Oh, this conversation is frivolous," said Pat, raising his glass, "so
I'll propose a toast: to the health of Miss Trevor, and many happy
returns of the day."
This was, of course, drank by everyone with acclamation, and then the
male portion of the company sang, "She's a jolly good fellow," rather
incongruously, it must be confessed.
"I wish Monteith were here," said Pat, when this was done.
Carmela said nothing, but looked much, for in her secret heart, that
is just what she had been wishing. At this moment they heard a wild
whoop from the river, and saw a boat coming quickly up the stream,
rowed by a single man.
"Gad," cried Bubbles, who had the sharpest eyes of anyone; "it's
Monteith himself. Speak of the Devil----"
"Hold your tongue," said Pat, "don't be personal."
It was Ronald, looking happy and jolly in his flannels, quite a
different being from the gloomy youth of the previous week. He soon
brought his light little craft to shore, and sprang on to the green
turf, to be welcomed.
"My dear lad," said Sir Mark, "I am delighted to see you, especially
as your arrival is so unexpected."
"How did you find us out?" asked Carmela, giving him her hand.
"Oh, easily enough," replied Ronald, gaily. "I came down to
Maidenhead, drove over to Bellfield, and finding it was deserted,
learnt from the servants where you were, so here I am."
"Hurrah for that," cried Pat; "is drink a curse?"
"Egad, I'm not sure. I'll try, if you've no objection," said Ronald.
Whereat, Mr. Ryan grinned, and handed his friend a glass and a bottle,
all to himself.
The luncheon was resumed, and then the party began to break up into
little groups. Pat, of course, going with Miss Lester, while Bell went
under the wing of Bubbles, though she secretly sighed for the society
of Gerald Foster. So, in a short time, Ronald found himself alone with
Carmela, whose eyes turned on him with eager expectation.
"Well," she asked, "is there anything new?"
"Yes; I've seen your sister."
"And she is innocent?"
"Yes, and moreover, has told us who committed the crime."
Carmela was startled.
"Does she know who did it?"
"She says so. Your cousin!"
"What, Matteo!" rising to her feet. "Oh, impossible!"
"Of course that's what he says, also," said Ronald, shrugging his
shoulders; "but your sister accused him and he has been arrested."
"Will they hang him?"
"If they prove him guilty, no doubt; but first, they must prove the
case."
"I cannot believe it of my cousin, he had no motive."
"Mrs. Verschoyle says he had--that he was in love with her."
"Yes, he was, seven years ago," said Carmela, not without a certain
feminine spite, "but that would not have induced him to kill poor
Leopold Verschoyle now. Maltese gentlemen don't avenge themselves in
such a cowardly way."
"Well, Vassalla says he can prove his innocence, but there's one thing
to be said, the whole secret of Verschoyle's death lies between your
sister and Vassalla."
"How on earth will it all end?" said Carmela, in a bewildered tone;
"but," with a sudden thought, "if Vassalla is guilty I am not bound to
marry him now."
"Of course not," said Ronald, taking one of her hands, "I want you to
marry me."
She snatched her hand away.
"How can you talk so at such a time?" she cried, her face flushing.
"Because I love you," he replied, "and I want to have the assurance
from your lips that you love me."
"How can you marry the cousin of a possible criminal?"
"I don't care a bit about that: I want to marry you."
"Wait till this affair is ended."
"Oh, I don't mind that; Vassalla will be brought to his trial in a few
weeks, and then it will be decided one way or another. But, Carmela,"
taking her hand once more, "when it is all over will you marry me?"
She paused a moment, then said simply--
"Yes."
Ronald took her in his arms and kissed her.