It was February now, and a month had passed since Camille had returned
to Verelands, bringing trouble and sorrow in her train. She was
there still, and she began to believe that she was quite safe in her
wickedness, as Norman de Vere had not yet betrayed her to the law for
the murder of Robert Lacy.
“He will not do it, because the old love makes me sacred in his eyes,”
she thought, triumphantly, little dreaming that it was for his mother’s
sake Norman kept silence. He was only waiting until she should be
strong enough to bear the news that Camille, in whom she had always
believed, whose part she had always taken, was a cruel murderess.
“I would have spared her still, as I have spared her all these years,
if she had let me--but she has been merciless!” he thought, remembering
all that his darlings had suffered at her vindictive hands; and he knew
that the time of her betrayal must come soon, for to-day his mother was
strong enough to be removed from the cabin to Verelands.
Norman had not intended to take his mother back to Verelands until his
enemy had left it; but a letter from Lord Stuart had changed his mind
about the matter.
Lord Stuart had begged in a most impressive manner that Norman and his
mother would be at Verelands on a certain day, when he also, with his
sister, would arrive to make their anticipated visit.
“I have found Thea and little Alan,” he wrote. “They are both
well, and longing for the day when they will be restored to
your heart. I have met Doctor Frank Hinton, an old friend of
yours, here, too, and I took the liberty of inviting him to
Jacksonville. Poor fellow, he is very sad. His mother died
lately, and his father is in ill-health. His brother and sister
are married, and he feels almost forsaken in spite of his fine
practice here; so I thought it would cheer him a bit to bring him
with us. I shall bring other guests, too, that I hope may not be
unwelcome. I hope you will receive us in your drawing-room, and
if your enemy insists on receiving us also, permit her to have
her way. I will soon find a way to make Verelands uncomfortable
for her, and she will be glad to depart. As a last request,
will you kindly have ready the little garments worn by Little
Sweetheart when you found her? Perhaps I may throw some light on
the mystery of her origin.”
Norman had read that letter over and over, each time with a wildly
throbbing heart, for it seemed to him as if Lord Stuart must hold in
his hands the threads of some mystery that only he could unravel. Hope
began to sing her sweet pæans of joy again in his soul, and he grew
eagerly impatient as the time drew near for the coming of the party
from the West.
Camille and her maid were in a flurry of nervous excitement after
the arrival of Norman and his mother. They scarcely knew what to
think--whether the arrival was a portent of good or ill to themselves.
Camille was rather inclined to believe that Norman, weary of the
conflict in which she always came off triumphant, had at last
capitulated to the force of circumstances.
“He gives up the contest. Fate and a woman’s cunning have been too
strong for him,” she declared, maliciously; and she sent Finette to her
mother-in-law’s room to inquire if she might come in and congratulate
her on her recovery.
“Her son was with her, and he said his mother begged leave to decline
the honor,” reported Finette, on returning.
“_N’importe!_ They can not stay under the same roof with me long
and carry such stiff necks. Their very return to Verelands, under
the circumstances of the case, shows that they have found out that
conciliation is their best policy,” declared Camille, undaunted.
“Pour me out some wine to brace my nerves, Finette, and then dress
me handsomely in velvet and diamonds. I am going down to sit in the
drawing-room, as it is very probable that my humbled husband will seek
an interview with me soon,” she declared, as she tossed off the glass
of wine with the air of one habituated to its use.