VERA IS NOT PLEASED
Any stranger looking along the terrace at Ravenspur would have been
inclined to envy the lot of those who had their habitation there. It
looked so grand, so dignified, so peaceful. Brilliant sunshine shone
upon the terrace; against the grey stone of the grand old façade, the
emerald green of the lawns rose refreshing to the eyes, those old lawns
like velvet that only come with the passing of centuries.
People from the rush and fret of cities, excursionists, who had their
sordid, humdrum life in towns, turned longing eyes to Ravenspur. Anybody
who lived in a place like that must be happy.
And some of them looked it. Geoffrey, for instance, as he lounged on the
terrace with a cigarette between his strong white teeth. He was seated
with a cap over his eyes and appeared to be given over to a pleasant
reverie. A rod and an empty fishing basket stood by his side.
Ralph Ravenspur lounged up to him. Perhaps he had been waiting for his
nephew. At any rate, he always knew where to find him. He sat with the
sunshine full upon his sightless eyes and smoked his pipe placidly.
"There is nobody about?" he asked.
"Nobody," Geoffrey replied. "Do you want to say anything to me?"
Ralph made no reply. Geoffrey watched him curiously.
"Do you know you seem to be a long way off to me this afternoon?" he
said presently. "I can't quite explain my meaning. Since you have worn
those glasses you look a different man. There, now you are yourself
again."
Ralph had taken off the glasses for a moment.
"Is the difference very marked?" Ralph asked.
"Very marked, indeed. Honestly, I should not have known you."
Ralph gave a sigh, whether of sorrow or satisfaction Geoffrey could not
say.
"Time will prove whether the disguise is of any value or not," he said.
"I came to ask you about this evening. Are you going?"
"Of course I am. Mrs. Mona May fascinates me. On the whole, I have
deemed it advisable to say nothing to the others. We cannot call upon
Mrs. May and they need not know that I have had any intercourse with
her."
Ralph nodded. Perhaps he alone knew the real need for secrecy in this
matter.
"Quite right," he said. "The less said the better. She wrote to you, of
course?"
"Oh, yes. I had the letter yesterday."
"And destroyed it, of course?"
"Upon my word, I've forgotten. I see you are angry with me. Well, I will
try not to make a similar mistake again."
From the expression of his face Ralph was greatly moved. His features
flamed with anger, he was trembling with passion to his finger-tips.
Then his mood suddenly changed. He laid a kindly hand on Geoffrey's
knee.
"My boy," he said, earnestly. "There are reasons, weighty reasons why I
cannot take you entirely into my confidence. If I did so, you would see
the vital necessity of caution even in the most minute matters. You will
see that Mrs. May's letter is destroyed at once."
"I will, uncle. The rest of the family believe I am going to Alton
to-night."
Ralph nodded. He seemed already to have forgotten the circumstances. He
had fallen into one of those waking reveries that were deep as sleep to
most men. Geoffrey spoke to him more than once, but failed to gain the
slightest attention. Then Ralph rose and moved away like a man in a
dream.
Geoffrey lounged about till he had finished his cigarette. He tossed the
end away and then proceeded towards the house. He would get that letter
and destroy it without further delay. But this was easier said than
done, for the simple reason that the letter was nowhere to be found.
High and low Geoffrey searched for it, but all to no purpose.
Had he left it in the dining-room or the library? Possibly in the latter
place, seeing that he had written a couple of notes there earlier in the
day. It was dim, not to say gloomy in the library, and for a moment
Geoffrey failed to see that Vera was seated at the table.
He crossed over and touched her caressingly on the cheek. She looked up
coldly.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"A letter, dearest," Geoffrey replied. "But why do you look so
strange----"
"Oh, you ask me that! It is a letter you are looking for. Then perhaps I
may be so fortunate as to assist you. I have just found a letter lying
here addressed to you. As it lay with face open I could not but read it.
See here!"
A square of thick scented notepaper filled with a dashing black
caligraphy shook before Geoffrey's eyes. It was Mrs. May's writing
beyond a doubt. Geoffrey flushed slightly as he took the note.
"Read it," Vera said quietly, "read it aloud."
Geoffrey did so. It struck him now--it had never occurred to him
before--that the writer was slightly caressing in her manner of
phrasing. There was a suggestion of something warmer and more personal
than the stereotyped lines implied.
"So this is the Alton where you are going to-night?" Vera went on. "Who
is the woman? How long have you known her?"
The quick blood came flaming to Geoffrey's face. He had never seen Vera
hard and cold like this before. It was a woman and not a girl who was
speaking now. Geoffrey resented the questions; they came as a teacher
addresses a child.
"I cannot tell you," he said. "It has to do with the family secret."
"And you expect me to believe this, Geoffrey?"
"Of course I do," Geoffrey cried. "Did you ever know me tell you a lie?
And, after all the years we have been together, you are going to be
jealous of the first woman who comes along! Have I been mistaken in you,
Vera?"
The girl's beautiful eyes filled with tears. She had been sorely vexed
and hurt, far more hurt than she cared Geoffrey to know. For it seemed
to her that he had wilfully deceived her, that he was going to see this
creature of whom he was secretly ashamed, that he had lied so that he
could seek her company without suspicion in the minds of others.
"If you give me your word of honor," Vera faltered, "that you----"
"No, no," Geoffrey cried. "I merely state the facts and you may believe
them or not as you please. Who Mrs. May is I decline to say. How I
became, acquainted with her I also decline to explain. Suffice it that
she is Mrs. May, and that she has rooms at Jessop's farm."
"And that is all you are going to tell me, Geoffrey?"
"Yes, Vera. If you have lost faith in me----"
"Oh, no, no! Don't say such cruel things, Geoff. Whom have I beyond my
parents and you in the whole world! And when I found that letter, when I
knew what you said about Alton was--was not true----"
She paused unable to proceed. Her little hands went out imploringly and
Geoffrey caught them in his own. He drew her to his side and gazed into
her eyes.
"Darling," he whispered, "you know that I love you?"
"Yes, dear, it was foolish of me to doubt it."
"I love you now and always. I can never change. I did not intend to
tell you about this woman because it was all part of the secret. The
wise man among us has said it, and his word is law. I am speaking of
Uncle Ralph."
Vera nodded with a brighter glance. Had not she a secret in common with
Ralph?
"Say no more," she whispered. "I am ashamed of myself."
Geoffrey kissed the quivering red lips passionately.
"Spoken like my own, Vera," he said. "Now I will give you my word of
honor----"
"No, no. It is not necessary, Geoff. I was foolish. I might have known
better. Not another thought will I give to Mrs. Mona May."
Vera spoke in all sincerity. But our thoughts are often our masters and
they were so in this case. Mona May was a name graven on Vera's mind,
and the time was coming when with fervent gratitude she blessed the hour
when she had found that letter.