Part 33 (2/2)
Yours in waiting, CONSTANCE WARDOUR.
”There,” said Ray, refolding the note; ”now what say you?”
”That Miss Wardour's commands are to be obeyed; and--as your horse is stabled, and mine is at the door, you had best take mine and lose no time. Perhaps you may be dismissed as speedily as you are summoned, and we may take our drive after all. Go, go, my son;” and he waved his hand theatrically.
”Thank you, Heath. You are a generous fellow; but don't look for your red roan steed until you see it back. I shall place that and myself at Miss Wardour's disposal. She shall find that she has summoned no laggard knight.”
”Who talks of playing the knight to Miss Constance Wardour's 'fair ladye?' Let him have a care!” cried a gay voice from the doorway. And turning their eyes thither, they saw the dark, handsome face of Frank Lamotte.
A shade of annoyance crossed the face of young Vandyck, but he retorted in the same strain:
”I am that happy man. Stand aside, sir. I go to cast myself and all my fortune at her feet.” Then, turning a wicked look back at his friend in the big chair, he cried, ”Heath, adieu! look your last on the red roan steed. I may be going 'O'er the hills and far away,'--who knows?”
”You may be gone--”
”Deep into the dying day.”
”That's the thought that distresses me,” retorted the doctor. ”But go, go, egotist!”
With a laugh, and another backward meaning glance at the doctor, young Vandyck pocketed his note, took up his hat, and murmuring a mocking adieu in the ear of young Lamotte, ran lightly down the steps, and, a moment later, the swift fall of hoofs told them he was off.
”What the deuce ails the fellow?” said Lamotte, sourly, tossing his hat and himself down upon the office divan. ”Prating like a school-boy about a summons from Miss Wardour.”
”He means to get to Wardour Place without loss of time, if one may judge from the manner of his going. You know,” smiling behind his hand, ”Ray is a prime favorite at Wardour.”
”I did not know it,” returned Lamotte, sulkily. ”Vandyck don't seem to realize that I have a prior claim, and that his twaddle, therefore, only serves to render him ridiculous.”
Clifford Heath dropped his hand from before his face, and turned two stern, searching eyes upon the young man.
”_Have_ you a prior claim?” he asked, slowly.
For a second the eyes of Frank Lamotte were hidden by their long lashes; then they were turned full upon the face of his interlocutor, as their owner replied firmly:
”I have.”
Raymond Vandyck lost no time on his drive to Wardour Place; and before he could frame any sort of reasonable guess as to the possible meaning of Constance's note, he found himself in her very presence.
”Ah, Ray!” she exclaimed, extending a welcome hand, ”you are promptness itself. I hardly dared hope to see you so soon.”
”I met your messenger on the road, as I was riding in to keep an appointment with Heath,” exclaimed Ray, ”but as I was in company with Bradley, our new neighbor, you know, I did not open the note until I got to Heath's office. Then, as your note was urgent, and Heath's horse at the door, I took it, and here I am, very much at your service, Conny.”
”And I don't know of another who _could_ be of service to me just now, Ray,” she said, seriously; ”neither do I know just how to make use of you. Ray,” suddenly, ”are you burdened with a large amount of curiosity?”
”About the average amount, I think.”
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