over the old palace and drove out to Barbison, and to Marlotte.Awfully charming places."
"Ah! Barbison. That is the colony of artists. I know, I love it, andhave often cycled over there, where I have friends. Father is a bit ofa recluse, so I travel and look after my uncle."
"And Marlotte--by the river. Do you know the picturesque little hotelthere, and its al-fresco cafe--the garden with all the littlesummer-houses?"
"Oh, yes," she laughed. "Do you know it, too? How gay it is on Sundaysin summer. All the artists come out from Paris for the day."
"It reminds me of Monkey Island, on the Thames. We used to go up therewhen I was at Eton."
She looked at him suddenly with a fixed expression, and then said:
"You haven't told me your name. I only know you as Snookie's rescuer--you know," and she laughed.
"My name's Remington--Raife Remington," he replied. "The guv'nor livesat Aldborough Park, not far from Tunbridge Wells."
Her face changed in an instant. She seemed to suddenly hold her breath,though quite imperceptibly. For a moment all the colour left her softcheeks, but as quickly she recovered all her self-possession, andexclaimed, in a changed tone:
"Is your father Sir Henry Remington?"
"Yes. Why? Do you happen to know him?"
"I--er--oh, no, I don't!" she replied, endeavouring to conceal herconsternation at the discovery. "Only--well--I--of course, had no ideathat you were the son of a gentleman so well-known as Sir Henry."
"My misfortune, perhaps," he laughed, airily. "The guv'nor has brains--has been a member of Parliament for twenty years, and all that--Ihaven't any."
"You have."
"They say I haven't, at Cambridge."
She was silent for some moments. What strange freak of Fate had thrownthem together--he, the very last man on earth she desired to meet. Andyet, she had found him such a bright, cheerful companion!
Her eyes were turned to where Mutimer and her friend, Maud Wilson, werestrolling along the seafront.
The young fellow at her side was actually the son of Sir HenryRemington! The baronet's name burned into her brain--it was brandedthere, as though seared by a red-hot iron.
The amazing revelation staggered her. That man seated so idly in thechair, his legs stretched out, displaying the latest make in 'Varsitysocks, was actually the son of Sir Henry!
She could not believe it.
Raife, on his part, was not exactly blind to the fact that mention ofhis father's name had unduly surprised her.
"I fancy you know the guv'nor--eh?" he exclaimed, chaffing her. "Doyou? Tell me. Perhaps you've met him somewhere? He's at Upper BrookStreet in the season, and at Mentone in winter. We have a villa there."
"No, Mr Remington, I have never had the pleasure of meeting yourfather," was her rather strained response. "But all the world has heardof him. One sees his picture in the papers very often. I only readyesterday his scathing criticism in the House of Commons on the Navyestimates, and his serious warning regarding the new super-dreadnought--which is building on the Clyde--the vessel which is to be the mostpowerful battleship afloat."
"You know more than I do, Miss Tempest," he laughed. "I never read theguv'nor's speeches. I heard too much about ships at home, before I wentup to Cambridge."
"I suppose so," she laughed, and then, as though uneasy and anxious toget away, she added: "Look! Your friend is coming back with Maud. Wemust go," and she rose, a tall, graceful figure in neat black.
"No. Don't go yet," he urged, still remaining seated. "You surelyaren't in such a great hurry! It's only just past ten."
"I have to go back to the hotel," she declared.
"Have you so very much to do--and is my society so terribly boring?" theyoung fellow asked, with a mischievous laugh.
"Certainly not," was her reproachful reply, and, as though against herwill, she re-seated herself. "You really ought not to say that," sheadded.
"But you seem very anxious to get away. Why?" The girl held herbreath, and her great blue eyes were downcast. No. She dare not raiseher gaze to his lest he should suspect the terrible truth--he, the sonof Sir Henry Remington!
"Well," she replied at last. "Because I have some letters to write,and--and to tell the truth, I have a dressmaker coming at half-pastten."
"I suppose in a woman's life one's dressmaker is set upon a very highpedestal. All women must bow to the Goddess of Fashion."
"You are horribly philosophic."
"My philosophy is induced by your attitude towards me, Miss Tempest," hedeclared. "You are a mystery. You were bright and merry until you knewmy name, and then--well, then you suddenly curled into your shell.Really, I confess I can't make you out!"
One more experienced than he would probably have discerned that a greatand staggering blow had fallen upon his newly-found little friend. Shewas at a loss how to act--or what to say.
Her heart was thumping hard within her. What if he should discover theterrible secret which she alone knew! Fearing lest he should growsuspicious, she was all anxiety to get away--to place him and his memorybehind her for ever.
Yet, somehow, he had fascinated her, and she sat there quite unable toleave him. Though the sunshine, the life and gaiety about her werebrilliant, the whole earth had, for her, grown dark in one singleinstant. She hardly knew what she did--or what she said.
"I really must go," she declared, at last, hitching up her pom frombeneath her arm.
"Well, if you must, you must, I suppose, Miss Tempest," he responded atlast, with great reluctance. "I fear you don't care for my society," headded, with a sigh.
"How very foolish!" she cried. "Of course, I do--only, as I haveexplained, I have an engagement which I can't possibly break. Mydinner-dress is a positive rag."
"Then let us meet later to-day," he suggested. "This evening--at anytime you like," he urged. "Will you see me again? Do," he implored.
For some time she made no reply. She was reflecting deeply. At last,with pale face, and striving to preserve a bold front, she repliedrather frigidly: "No, really, Mr Remington, I am sorry, very sorry, butI cannot meet you again. I thank you ever so much for saving my littleSnookie, but, in our mutual interests, it is far the best that we shouldnot meet again."
"Why? I really don't understand you!" he exclaimed, much mystified.
"I am sorry, I repeat, Mr Remington--very sorry indeed--but I can'tmeet you again," she said, in a hard, determined tone. "I do not dareto."
"Engaged, I suppose--and fear tittle-tattle--eh?" he sniffed.
"No, I'm not engaged," was her rather haughty response, her cheekscolouring slightly.
"Then why cannot we meet? What prevents it?"
She looked at him with a strange, almost weird expression in her bigluminous eyes.
"A barrier lies between us, Mr Remington," she said, in a low, veryearnest voice. "We must never meet again after to-day--never?"
"But, Miss Tempest--you--"
"I have told you the truth," she said, firmly, rising with littleSnookie tucked beneath her arm. "Please do not ask me the reason.Come, let us rejoin Maud and your friend."
She started off, and he, being helpless in the face of herdetermination, was compelled to follow her.
What, he wondered, was the mysterious motive of her refusal to see himagain?
CHAPTER TWO.
PRESENTS A CURIOUS PROBLEM.
On entering old Mr Mutimer's house a telegram addressed to Raife layupon the hall-table. Tearing it open, he read the brief summons. "Comeat once, urgent.--Mother."
The words were startling in their brevity. Turning to his friend, heexclaimed in alarmed accents: "Something serious has happened at home,old man. See what the mater has wired." He handed the telegram toTeddy.
Teddy read it and gave it back. "I'm awfully sorry, Raife. There's agood train in about an hour from now. While you are waiting, you mightring up home and find out what's the matter."
"A good idea," sai
d Raife. And at once he entered the study, and,taking up the telephone receiver, got a trunk call.
In less than five minutes he was speaking with Edgson, the old butler atAldborough Park, his father's fine place near Tunbridge Wells.
"Is Lady Remington there?" asked Raife, eagerly. "Tell her I want tospeak to her."
"She's--oh, it's you, Master Raife, sir! She's--I'm sorry, sir, herladyship's not well, sir."
"Not well? What's the matter?" asked
The Broken Thread Page 2
