Part 41 (1/2)
”Well, you are sorry for leaving mama in that old cabin, aren't you?”
It forced him to turn his eyes away from her, and with a tremor of pain in his voice, muttered: ”Twenty times the child has said that to me today,” and, turning to her, he said gently and with infinite compa.s.sion:
”Dorothy, you are too young to comprehend. It is my intention to remove you from the home of your birth, to take you East, and educate you there. Now, don't trouble me with questions, dear,” and he kissed the fair young brow and, looking into her sweet innocent brown eyes, he saw reflected in them her mother's.
Then he turned his head aside and muttered: ”So much like her mother!
Oh, Constance! Constance! My judgment condemns you, but my heart--my heart will not leave you!”
Down from the house leisurely strolled Mr. Harris and Hazel.
”His Grace has just communicated to me the most amazing information about Virginia. It is so absurd that I felt quite angry with him for mentioning it,” Hazel said quite seriously.
”And what did he tell you?” inquired Mr. Harris. ”If it is no secret?”
”He told me that it is common talk that she was found in the cabin with Constance at the time of Dorothy's rescue by her father, having just rewarded the Italian for abducting the child, and that they both swooned when uncle found them there.”
”Lord Beauchamp must have been misinformed,” broke in Mr. Harris, with a grave face. ”If such were the case Sam would have told me. All idle tattle--mischievous gossip!”
”Ah! Mr. Thorpe and Dorothy!”
”Oh, darling!” exclaimed Hazel, and she gathered the child in her arms, kissed her, and flew off to the house with her.
”Well, John, I am glad to meet you again,” shaking his hand, ”though to tell the truth, I did not expect you.”
”It has cost me bitter memories, Mr. Harris.”
”I have long since discovered,” continued Mr. Harris, ”that while time cannot heal a deep-rooted sorrow, it softens many of its asperities.
When do you depart for the East?”
”I have made arrangements to leave tomorrow.”
”You are doing just what would prompt any man in like position to do.
I trust we shall hear from you occasionally.”
”It is now my purpose, after arranging for Dorothy's education, to travel abroad for an indefinite period, but I shall endeavor to keep in communication with you.”
Linking his arm in that of his guest, Mr. Harris said: ”Come, John, let us join Mrs. Harris on the piazza. She is anxious to have a chat with you.”
Turning in the direction of the house, to their surprise they confronted Virginia. Mr. Thorpe at once withdrew his arm from that of Mr. Harris, and stepping aside with an offended dignity, remarked reproachfully:
”I was not aware of having merited the honor you do me.”
Mr. Harris threw up his hands deprecatingly. He understood the purport of the allusion and was dumb. He had been quite unaware of the presence of Virginia, and knowing of the estrangement between brother and sister, felt embarra.s.sed. He was rescued from his dilemma by Virginia, who addressed him in a grave voice.
”Please leave us, Mr. Harris.”
His respect and esteem for her was sincere and great. Her good sense and becoming modesty had often impressed him as a woman of sterling qualities. Utterly disbelieving and discrediting the insinuations and innuendoes which Rutley had set afloat to his own advantage concerning her antagonistic relation with her brother, he conceived her to be the unhappy subject of a combination of circ.u.mstances over which she had no influence. A prey to anxiety, she retained little of the color and less of the vivacity formerly so conspicuously her heritage; yet her broad brow glistened white with an intellectuality that beautified her with spiritual chast.i.ty.
He was struck, too, with her very serious and pallid face, and his heart went out to her. He bowed low in answer to her request, and without a word gravely turned away and left them.