Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: The Broken Thread by Le Queux William
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 1180 lines and 69246 words, and 24 pages
Her face changed in an instant. She seemed to suddenly hold her breath, though quite imperceptibly. For a moment all the colour left her soft cheeks, but as quickly she recovered all her self-possession, and exclaimed, 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 her consternation at the discovery. "Only--well--I--of course, had no idea that 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--I haven't any."
"You have."
"They say I haven't, at Cambridge."
She was silent for some moments. What strange freak of Fate had thrown them together--he, the very last man on earth she desired to meet. And yet, she had found him such a bright, cheerful companion!
Her eyes were turned to where Mutimer and her friend, Maud Wilson, were strolling along the seafront.
The young fellow at her side was actually the son of Sir Henry Remington! The baronet's name burned into her brain--it was branded there, as though seared by a red-hot iron.
The amazing revelation staggered her. That man seated so idly in the chair, his legs stretched out, displaying the latest make in 'Varsity socks, 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 of his father's name had unduly surprised her.
"I fancy you know the guv'nor--eh?" he exclaimed, chaffing her. "Do you? Tell me. Perhaps you've met him somewhere? He's at Upper Brook Street in the season, and at Mentone in winter. We have a villa there."
"No, Mr Remington, I have never had the pleasure of meeting your father," was her rather strained response. "But all the world has heard of him. One sees his picture in the papers very often. I only read yesterday his scathing criticism in the House of Commons on the Navy estimates, and his serious warning regarding the new super-dreadnought-- which is building on the Clyde--the vessel which is to be the most powerful battleship afloat."
"You know more than I do, Miss Tempest," he laughed. "I never read the guv'nor's speeches. I heard too much about ships at home, before I went up to Cambridge."
"I suppose so," she laughed, and then, as though uneasy and anxious to get away, she added: "Look! Your friend is coming back with Maud. We must go," and she rose, a tall, graceful figure in neat black.
"No. Don't go yet," he urged, still remaining seated. "You surely aren'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?" the young fellow asked, with a mischievous laugh.
"Certainly not," was her reproachful reply, and, as though against her will, she re-seated herself. "You really ought not to say that," she added.
"But you seem very anxious to get away. Why?" The girl held her breath, and her great blue eyes were downcast. No. She dare not raise her gaze to his lest he should suspect the terrible truth--he, the son of 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-past ten."
"I suppose in a woman's life one's dressmaker is set upon a very high pedestal. All women must bow to the Goddess of Fashion."
"You are horribly philosophic."
"My philosophy is induced by your attitude towards me, Miss Tempest," he declared. "You are a mystery. You were bright and merry until you knew my 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 great and staggering blow had fallen upon his newly-found little friend. She was at a loss how to act--or what to say.
Her heart was thumping hard within her. What if he should discover the terrible secret which she alone knew! Fearing lest he should grow suspicious, she was all anxiety to get away--to place him and his memory behind her for ever.
Yet, somehow, he had fascinated her, and she sat there quite unable to leave him. Though the sunshine, the life and gaiety about her were brilliant, the whole earth had, for her, grown dark in one single instant. She hardly knew what she did--or what she said.
"I really must go," she declared, at last, hitching up her pom from beneath her arm.
"Well, if you must, you must, I suppose, Miss Tempest," he responded at last, with great reluctance. "I fear you don't care for my society," he added, with a sigh.
"How very foolish!" she cried. "Of course, I do--only, as I have explained, I have an engagement which I can't possibly break. My dinner-dress is a positive rag."
"Then let us meet later to-day," he suggested. "This evening--at any time 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 replied rather frigidly: "No, really, Mr Remington, I am sorry, very sorry, but I cannot meet you again. I thank you ever so much for saving my little Snookie, but, in our mutual interests, it is far the best that we should not 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't meet you again," she said, in a hard, determined tone. "I do not dare to."
"Engaged, I suppose--and fear tittle-tattle--eh?" he sniffed.
"No, I'm not engaged," was her rather haughty response, her cheeks colouring slightly.
"Then why cannot we meet? What prevents it?"
She looked at him with a strange, almost weird expression in her big luminous eyes.
"A barrier lies between us, Mr Remington," she said, in a low, very earnest 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 little Snookie 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 her determination, was compelled to follow her.
What, he wondered, was the mysterious motive of her refusal to see him again?
PRESENTS A CURIOUS PROBLEM.
On entering old Mr Mutimer's house a telegram addressed to Raife lay upon the hall-table. Tearing it open, he read the brief summons. "Come at once, urgent.--Mother."
The words were startling in their brevity. Turning to his friend, he exclaimed in alarmed accents: "Something serious has happened at home, old man. See what the mater has wired." He handed the telegram to Teddy.
Teddy read it and gave it back. "I'm awfully sorry, Raife. There's a good train in about an hour from now. While you are waiting, you might ring up home and find out what's the matter."
"A good idea," said 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 at Aldborough Park, his father's fine place near Tunbridge Wells.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page