the sex, and as he looked at her he became suddenly conscious of a struggle raging in his breast. A struggle between doubt and confidence – but he stumbled on slowly – “I think – you show more – concern for – a – the company of Mr. Corway than prudence – I mean – Hazel!”
At that moment Virginia pushed aside the portiere and silently stepped into the room.
John Thorpe paused, for he saw the girl’s face whiten, and her eyes look into his with an expression of wonderment, and then his heart seemed to leap to his throat, and choke him with a sense of shame at his implication.
He put his arm gently about her, looked into the depths of her blue eyes, and said, kindly: “As you love the memory of your father and your mother, Hazel, beware that you do not make too free in the society of Corway. Let your conduct be hedged about with propriety” —
“Uncle!” she interrupted, drawing away from him like a startled fawn hit from ambush.
Virginia saw her opportunity to sever the friendship between her brother and Corway.
Before her transformation she would have been shocked beyond measure at so wicked a falsehood, as she then decided to launch. Impelled by a consuming desire for revenge, no blush of shame checked her mad course, and “no still small voice” warned her of her sin.
She said: “John, if our family honor is to be protected from scandal, you will prevent your niece from having further to do with Mr. Corway.”
Both John and Hazel turned toward her. A deep silence ensued.
Implicit trust and confidence, the confidence begotten in perfect domestic peace and contentment, had followed John Thorpe – but now, for the first time, he found a tinge of shame and indignation had crept into his heart – and he could not banish it.
At last he gravely broke the silence – “Have you no answer to this, Hazel?”
The girl’s eyes flashed resentment, but she refrained from angry expression, for to her uncle she always showed the greatest deference, yet her voice trembled a little as she said, with girlish dignity: “I decline to reply to such an absurdity.”
“Hazel!” warned Virginia, “you are dangerously near ruin when in the company of that man, for his reputation is anything but clean.”
Again a painful silence followed, Hazel, appearing incapable of clearly understanding just what it was all about, stood dumb with astonishment, while John’s varied emotions were seen plainly through the thin veneer of tranquility he tried to maintain.
John Thorpe was jealous of the honor of his house. The mere thought of its possible violation bruised and lacerated him.
Proud of his high position in society; proud of his high rectitude; proud of his father’s untarnished life; proud of the fact that not the faintest shadow of scandal could ever attach to his house or name – the hinted criminations of his his orphan niece, maintained in his home as one of the family, beat upon him with much the same effect as the horrifying wings of a bat upon the face of a frightened child.
Virginia saw and felt that the crisis of her ruse was near. Again a flush of daring sprang into her eyes, ominous of deeper sin, but John unconsciously spared her from further commitment. Doubt was master at last, for he chose to lean toward Virginia.
“Hazel!” he exclaimed, his white, grave face betraying a keen sense of his shame. “Your rash fondness for that man is a sacrifice of affection, and I shall forbid him visiting our house.”
“A wise precaution,” commented Virginia.
At last Hazel’s indignation broke through all restraint.
“I am astonished at your implications,” she retorted, her voice becoming pathetic with the sense of her wounded honor. “My ‘rash fondness’! Uncle!” and she drew her slight form up erect, her eyes flashing defiance: “If to believe in Mr. Corway’s preferment is a sacrifice of affection, then that sacrifice is to me an exalted honor, for I have consented to become his wife!”
“Hazel!” gasped John Thorpe, amazed and dismayed at her declaration.
“I have suspected such a calamity would happen – but even now it is not too late to prevent it!” exclaimed Virginia, sharply.
“Why, Virginia,” reproached Hazel, with a stamp of her foot. “You insult me!” and she turned away to conceal the tears that arose.
During a short, impressive silence, Mrs. Harris abruptly entered the room, followed by Corway and Sam. “Dear me!” she exclaimed, as she smilingly surveyed the trio, “James has often gone into raptures over the domestic cooing of the Thorpes, but I was quite unaware that it made them careless of the wishes of their guests.
“Thorpe, your arm” – and she swept down the room and seized his arm. “Hazel, I have brought you an escort,” and with a smile at Virginia, “I don’t think that Sam is far away. You cannot refuse to come now.”
Hazel proudly accepted Corway’s arm. Then they turned to leave the room. As they neared the door, Virginia exclaimed, with low but startling irony: “Il. cavalier is careful to make it appear he is delighted with the society of his affianced. No doubt feeling an honorable justification for his mercenary felicity. Ho, ho,” Virginia laughed, her lips quivering with scorn. “The situation is charming. Ha, ha, ha, ha.”
The principals to this little drama understood its meaning perfectly, but while Mrs. Harris paused for an instant in wonderment, her easy nature forbade worry – and so the incident quickly passed out of her memory, and Sam was too shrewd to show that he heard it, and with his round face beaming with unquenchable admiration, bowed and offered his arm to her, accompanied by the characteristic side movement of his head – “Ea, ha, I guess so – eh, Auntie?”
The joyous manner of utterance was like a shaft of sunshine bursting through the dark, tragic clouds of impending storm.
Virginia’s first attack fell short of accomplishing the purpose intended, yet the seed of doubt, of suspicion and fear of family disgrace had been grounded in her brother’s mind, and it would be strange, indeed, if Corway’s position proved invulnerable to more carefully-planned attacks.
It must be remembered that an opportunity had come at an unexpected moment, and she impulsively seized upon it. Through it all, however, Virginia must be credited with a sincere belief that Corway’s intentions toward Hazel were as insincere and mercenary as they had been to her.
CHAPTER II
The night of the Harris reception at “Rosemont,” in honor of Lord Beauchamp, was beautiful. Dark, yet serene and tranquil as the illimitable void through which the myriad of glittering stars swept along on their steady course.
The long, gentle, sloping, velvety lawn, stretching away from the broad steps of the great columned piazza, down to the placid waters of the Willamette, was artistically beautified by clusters of magnolias and chestnut trees and native oaks and firs, while the soft sway of advanced Autumn was disclosed in the mellow, gorgeous tints of the oak and maple leaf projected against the dark evergreen of the stately fir; and afar off, to the north, through vistas in the foliage, gleamed the steady electric arc lights of the city.
Marble statuary glistened in white repose, and groups of majestic palms and ferns and holly stood illumined in the soft light of frosted electric globes and quaint Oriental lanterns.
Out from the deep
