“I suppose that is inevitable,” the Countess said as she looked thoughtfully across the flowerbeds. “Still, the fault is my own. I deliberately wasted eighteen years, and it is hardly to be expected that Vera—but don’t let us anticipate.”
“I am afraid the mischief is done,” Ravenspur smiled. “From a remark that Vera let slip the other night, I learnt a great deal that has been going on in her mind. Goodness knows how she got the impression, but she honestly believed that I was something more than her guardian, and that, between you and myself—but I mustn’t pain you by being more definite. Anyway, I now know why Vera appeared to be so unhappy and miserable a few weeks ago, and why she conceived the idea of leaving my house, and going out into the world to get her own living. To make matters quite plain, she and my nephew have fallen in love with one another and she thought that I should oppose the match. As a matter of fact, I did. But not for the reasons that Vera supposed. What I was afraid of was that the vengeance intended for me might have been transferred to Walter, had he married Vera then. Of course, matters are on a totally different footing now, and nobody is more delighted than myself. Walter is a fine fellow. He will be rich some of these days. He will succeed to the title at my death. If I were you, Countess, I would not interfere with that arrangement.”
“I am afraid it would be too late in any case,” the Countess said, sadly. “I have no right to say a word. And, from what I have seen of your nephew, I should say that he will make a good husband for any girl. Still, it is rather a disappointment to find that I have been supplanted in this way, though I am bound to admit that the fault is entirely my own.”
Ravenspur was quite content to leave it discreetly at that, and all the more so because Vera herself was at that moment coming down the garden path. The girl’s face was bright and happy now. The look of trouble had vanished from her eyes. The sun was shining full in her face, and as the Countess regarded her daughter critically she could see no suggestion of her father in her face. As Lord Ravenspur moved away, Vera took her place by her mother’s side.
“What have you two been plotting?” she asked gaily.
“We have been discussing your future,” the Countess replied. “Lord Ravenspur has been telling me something which, apparently, I ought to have guessed before. I was looking forward to a year or two in your company, but I am told that that is more than I can expect. There is a certain young man—”
“You are speaking of Walter,” Vera murmured. A little colour crept into her cheeks. Her eyes were bright and smiling. “Positively there has been no time to tell you about Walter. Do you know, mother, that Walter and myself have been lovers ever since I was fourteen? There has never been anybody like Walter in my eyes. And then, a few months ago, it seemed to come to me in a different way altogether. I suppose when I came to years of discretion I could see things more plainly. But how could I marry Walter when I had no name of my own? I felt sure that Lord Ravenspur would be sternly opposed to anything of the kind. And that is why I wanted to leave his house and earn my own living. But now that I am a Flavio, that is a different matter. We are quite as well born as the Ravenspurs, and so far as my guardian is concerned—”
“The path is smooth enough now,” the Countess smiled. “Lord Ravenspur told me just now that he was delighted with the turn of events. There is no girl he knows he would rather have for a niece than yourself. But I wasn’t going to say that, Vera. What I want to impress upon you is this—I am not going to stand between you and your happiness for a moment. If your lover wants you now, go to him and don’t consider me. Take your happiness when you get the opportunity. Let me before I die see one Descarti, at least, who has her heart’s desire. And now we won’t say any more about it, my child. After all, I am better treated than I deserve.”
The dusk was beginning to fall at length. The garden was fragrant with the scent of flowers, holding their heads high to reach the dropping dew. It was a warm evening, and the French windows in the dining-room were widely open. Dinner was almost over. The table was littered with fruit. There was just the suggestion of scented tobacco smoke hanging on the air. Ravenspur sat chatting almost gaily with the Countess and her sister. The gloom had lifted from his face now. He appeared to be years younger during the last few days. Vera rose from her chair and stood by the window, drinking in the subtle delights of the evening. Walter crossed over to her side, and placed his arm under hers.
“Come outside,” he said. “It is a shame to stay indoors a night like this. Besides, I have something important to say to you.”
Vera turned and smiled into her lover’s face. She had never felt the least shy or awkward with him—they were too good friends for that. They walked in
