A DARK SUSPICION.
All was confusion at Yorke Towers. Betty was soon restored to
consciousness, only to tell a wild and incoherent tale which astonished
her listeners.
She had been standing at the bedside of her mistress--Miss Arleigh
was present also--and Betty was about to administer Mrs. Yorke’s
sleeping-draught at her request, when all at once a man rushed into the
room. At the same instant the lights were extinguished, and Mrs. Yorke
uttered a piercing shriek, for she was fearfully alarmed.
After that there was the sound of retreating footsteps in the darkness,
and then Betty had lost consciousness and knew no more.
Leonard Yorke listened to the old woman’s absurd story with a pale,
stern face and dark, wrathful eyes. Jessie and Mrs. Rutledge had begun
to resuscitate Mrs. Yorke, while Hilda flew to summon the servants and
send for a physician.
All was excitement and confusion in the house, and a pale, terrified
group gathered around Mrs. Yorke’s bedside.
In the midst of it all Leonard stole away and went out into the open
air for a time, to collect his thoughts and try and arrange some plan
of action.
Where was Violet? Surely it was time that she was found! He sought
eagerly, anxiously, through all the lower rooms of the house, then
slowly and dejectedly ascended the staircase to return to his mother’s
apartment.
At the head of the stairs he encountered Hilda. She was pale as death,
and her dusky eyes gleamed with a curious, brassy light.
Leonard laid his hand upon her arm with a force that made her wince.
“Hilda”--his eyes burned into hers as he gazed full into their
depths--“we must find Violet--find her at once! Do you hear me?”
She was trembling like a leaf; her hands were as cold as ice.
“Of course we will do all in our power to find her, Leonard,” she
returned, sweetly; “but is it not foolish to insinuate that she is
_lost_?”
“True.” He looked relieved. “She may be in her own room all this time.
Go and see, Hilda, will you not?”
She smiled a cold smile, which chilled him somehow.
“I do not mean that she is still here,” she returned, slowly; “though
of course I will go to her room and see if she is there. I mean this,
Leonard: You know that she and--and Captain Venners were in the
grounds together to-night, do you not?”
Leonard Yorke’s face grew white as death. Across his memory there
flashed the scene in the shrubbery, where he had seen Violet--_his_
Violet--in Will Venners’ arms.
“I--know!” he gasped, hoarsely.
Hilda’s face wore a look of triumph.
“Well, since you know that he was here to-night, does it not strike you
as a little odd that he should not have entered the house, but should
meet Violet (of course by appointment) out in the grounds? They were
out there together ever so long. Leonard, it is my belief--you need not
say anything to anybody, of course, until we are sure--but it is my
belief that they have gone away together.”
“_Hilda!_”
“I can not help it; I can not help believing this to be the case. Of
course, you will say that no elopement would be carried out under such
circumstances; but I believe that old Betty Harwood knows or suspects
more than she cares to tell.”
“But, Hilda, I thought, I fancied that I saw Captain Venners with Miss
Glyndon when the alarm was given.”
Hilda looked blank.
“That is easily proven,” she returned. “I will see Jessie and ask her.”
By this time the physician had arrived and had taken charge of Mrs.
Yorke.
Jessie was standing alone in a deserted corner. Hilda hastened to her
side.
“Miss Glyndon,” she began in a low tone, “was not Captain Venners here
a little while ago?”
Jessie’s face grew crimson, then went white as marble.
“Yes; he was here,” she returned, quietly; “but he has gone. He left
some time ago; in fact, just after the alarm was raised. I advised him
to go, for he could be of no assistance here.”
“Well”--Hilda’s dusky eyes were fixed full upon Jessie Glyndon’s honest
gray ones--“has it not occurred to you that he and--and Violet have
gone away together?”
“Impossible! preposterous! Captain Venners would never think of such a
thing--nor Violet, either,” she added, swiftly.
Hilda suppressed a smile.
“Dear me, what touching confidence, especially in Will Venners!” she
cried. “Why, Jessie, did you never hear of his escapade with Mrs.
Montford, the wife of a certain New Orleans merchant? He actually
eloped with her. Why, you _must_ have heard of it; all New Orleans was
ringing with the scandal at the time. _No?_ Well, that _is_ strange;
but it is true, nevertheless. I tell you, Will Venners is a seasoned
flirt--a wild fellow who will never get done sowing his crop of oats.”
“But, Miss Rutledge,” Jessie’s voice rang out in indignant protest, “if
you are convinced of Captain Venners’ baseness, at least you ought to
spare your cousin. Violet Arleigh would never be guilty of such an act
as running away with any man. And why, in the name of Heaven, should
she run away? She is virtually her own mistress, and will be legally so
in three years’ time, when she will come into a handsome fortune. She
need not elope with any man, for she can marry the man of her choice,
and no one has a right to object. Besides, she is engaged to Mr. Yorke.”
“It is not true!” cried Hilda, wrathfully. “I do not believe it.”
“Very well,” returned Jessie, quietly, “that is as you please. But at
all events, Mr. Yorke loves her--I am convinced of that.”
Hilda flounced angrily away, and went over to where Leonard was
standing pale and stern.
“The whole affair is shrouded in mystery,” she said in a low tone. “It
is only clear that Violet and Captain Venners were together a little
while before the alarm, and now they are both gone. That is all that
I can discover. You had better go over to town, Leonard, and make
inquiries.”
But Leonard shook his head.
“If she has gone away with Captain Venners, I have no right to
interfere,” he returned, coldly; “such interference on my part would
be absurd. If it is really true--that dreadful surmise of yours,
Hilda--she will probably become the wife of this man at once and return
to The Oaks. But why, in Heaven’s name, should she have chosen to take
such a strange course, she who could have married as she pleased?
I do not understand it at all, and it is that which makes me doubt
appearances. But we have not yet searched the whole house. Go at once,
Hilda, and see if you can find her in her room, while I search the rest
of the building.”
Somewhat sullenly, Hilda obeyed. No, Violet was not in her own room or
any other. Leonard procured a lamp and went swiftly, silently through
every room in the unused portion of the great, old-fashioned mansion,
ending at last with a visit to the east chamber. There was nothing to
be found, no trace, no clew; only as Leonard retraced his footsteps
down the long, narrow passage which led from the east chamber his eyes
fell upon a small object which lay upon the dusty floor. He stooped
and picked up a gentleman’s handkerchief of fine soft cambric; in one
corner was an elaborately embroidered letter _W_.
“_W_--for _Will_,” he muttered, harshly; and Leonard Yorke’s
jealous heart gave a fierce mad bound, and then stood still at this
corroboration of his unpleasant fears.
In truth, the handkerchief belonged to Gilbert Warrington, and the
initial was intended for the first letter of his last name; but, of
course, Leonard knew nothing of Warrington and his visits to Yorke
Towers, consequently, he could not suspect anything even near the
truth.
Mrs. Yorke was now restored to a rational state once more, but quite
unable to converse, so nothing could be learned from her, though in
response to Leonard’s eager questions in regard to Violet, she would
shake her head mournfully and look very sad.
At last, in the early dawn, Leonard Yorke rode away from Yorke Towers,
his mind made up, in spite of pride, to ride over to the town and make
inquiries. But first he rode to The Oaks, and astonished and terrified
the servants there by asking for Miss Violet. No, indeed, she had not
been home; they one and all agreed upon that point. So, after his
fruitless search there, Leonard went on to the town. Here he found
food for reflection. Yes, Miss Arleigh had been in town late the night
before, accompanied by a tall, dark gentleman, with a military air, and
they had taken the midnight train for New Orleans.
The station agent, who was an old acquaintance of the Arleighs, had
wondered at the late trip, but had concluded that she had important
business which had called her to New Orleans at that late hour.
[Illustration]