The Broken Thread

stay, sir.She's your `fyancee,' isn't she, sir? She's a very beautiful younglady, sir, if I may take the liberty, sir. And if that's her father,sir, he's a very handsome old gentleman--Again asking your pardon, SirRaife, we, in the servants' hall, wishes to offer you our heartycongratulations."

  Raife was accustomed to the old butler's garrulity and smilinglyreplied: "Thank you, Edgson. And will you thank the others for me. Ifall goes well, we'll very soon be having gay times in the old house."

  As he retired towards the door the old man talked to himself. "Ay!That we will, I warrant, if Master Raife has anything to do with it."He had barely closed the door when he knocked and entered again."Excuse me, Sir Raife--"

  Raife was worried and said, rather impatiently: "Yes, Edgson," thensmiling a forced smile, added: "What is it this time?"

  Closing the door, and looking around with an air of mystery, the oldservant almost whispered: "Do you remember the night, sir, in lastSeptember, when I saw the light in the library, and I had the housesurrounded?"

  "Yes," interrupted Raife, irritably. "What about it?"

  The old man, once started, was not to be waved aside: "Well, sir, one ofthe under-gardeners, Hodgson, it was. He was at work among therhododendrons, and he picked up a long piece of silk rope."

  Raife cut him short, saying: "Yes, I know, where is it?"

  The old man stared at this outburst, and said: "He handed it to me,sir."

  "Did he; and have you mentioned it to anyone, else?"

  With a sly look, that bordered as nearly on a wink as his well-traineddiscretion would allow, the old man replied, "No, Sir Raife, I have therope. I gave him half a crown and told him to mind that we didn't wantno gabblers round Aldborough Park."

  "Quite right, Edgson, you acted very wisely. I'll tell you all aboutit, perhaps, some day."

  "Perhaps" is always useful, in qualifying a promise. Producing asovereign-purse, he extracted two sovereigns and handing them to Edgson,said: "Do what you like with these, Edgson. I suggest you give the man,Hodgson, one."

  Edgson bowed low. "Very good, Sir Raife, I'll carry out yourinstructions."

  When the old man had finally gone, Raife mixed himself another whiskyand soda, and cursed with a freedom that was not customary with him.This contretemps was more tangible than the others, and it was thefourth incident or train of unpleasant thoughts that had been forced onhim, on this the joyful day, when he had brought Hilda to his home. Hewas not superstitious, but his nerves were affected by the sequence ofevents. Did they spell disaster?

  The spring day had ended in an unusually warm moonlight night. Afterdinner they walked on to the terrace and sauntered up and down. Hilda'shappiness was very great, and unmarred by doubt or foreboding. "Theother woman" was not in her thoughts. She surveyed the ornamentalflower beds which, even in this light, showed the wealth of blossom.She had already examined, at close quarters, the old sundial and thequaint-carved stone figures around the lily pond, with a fountain in thecentre, with sleepy old carp gliding through the dark shadows of itswaters. At length, they decided it was warm enough to sit in the chairsthat had been brought from some mysterious corner where they had restedthrough the long winter time.

  The silence that was customary among the trio, when conversationappeared superfluous, was broken by the sound of bells from a church ona hillside some distance away. Softly at first, in irregular clangs ofvarying notes, they burst into a carillon, ending in crashes, known insome parts as firing. There was an evident intention of joy in thesounds that floated through the still night air until it reached thegroup seated in the moonlight on the terrace of old Aldborough Park.

  Raife broke the silence. "Mother, why are the church bells ringing?This used not to be practice-night, for I've helped myself many a timeto clang with those ropes in our old church tower. They wouldn't ringlike that for an ordinary week-day service, besides, it's too late for aservice. I'll call Edgson. Perhaps he'll know."

  The duties of an old family butler are many and not well-defined.Speaking generally he does mostly what he pleases. He is always workingin some way or another, and may be safely trusted to guard the interestsof his master. It is his own chosen duty to know everything thattranspires on his domain, and to know the reason for it. In response toRaife's call, Edgson appeared. "What are the church bells ringing for,Edgson?"

  With a beaming countenance, the old man replied: "They are ringing foryou, Sir Raife, and, begging your pardon, Sir Raife, they are ringingfor the young lady, Miss Muirhead."

  Hilda, in astonished tones, exclaimed: "What's that? Ringing for me?What are they ringing for me for?"

  Edgson stammered, but failed to make a coherent reply.

  "Thank you, Edgson. That'll do," intimated Raife.

  The old man retired, chortling to himself: "She's a nice young lady foran American. But, lor', these Americans don't know as much as we do."

  When Edgson had gone, Lady Remington explained how those church bellshad rung for the birth and marriage of many generations of Reymingtounesduring four centuries, and sadly, she added, they had tolled a knell atmany a funeral of the family. Then, more cheerfully, smiling at Raife,she continued: "My son, I am glad to say, is very popular with thebell-ringers, as well as all over the estate."

  Raife intervened. "Please leave that out, mother."

  His mother retorted: "It's true, Raife, and I am glad of it. Well,Hilda, they are ringing those bells to welcome him back home, and towelcome you to Aldborough as the future Lady Remington."

  Hilda felt very glad and very proud. She had loved Raife for his ownsake, before she had known of all these things so wonderful to her, and,indeed, before she knew he was a baronet. She had loved him for hismodesty and courage in fighting the Nubian who was beating the woman inKhartoum.

  Lady Remington presently said, graciously:

  "Hilda, you have had a long and trying day; perhaps you would like toretire early?" Together they walked along the terrace, and LadyRemington took Hilda's arm, and personally conducted her to her room.There the two women talked awhile. The elderly lady, so soon to be a"Dowager," and the young American girl who was to hand down thetraditions of the ancient family, and, perchance, become the mother ofthe future heir to the estate. Lady Remington spoke very kindly, butthere was a sad note throughout. She told of her anxiety until they hadmet. She expressed, ungrudgingly, how Hilda's manner had charmed herfrom the moment of their meeting. She alluded to the greatresponsibility she was undertaking. They talked for long, and atlength, Lady Remington affectionately bade her good-night, and Hilda wasleft in privacy to her thoughts and sleep, if it would come.

  A maid tapped discreetly at the door, and offered her services. Hilda'sneeds were very slight that night, and she was glad when she haddismissed the maid. Attired in a loose dressing-gown she sat in a chairand wondered whether all could possibly be as well as it appeared. Herreverie lasted long. How long she did not know. Rousing herself shemade preparation for sleep. Impulse prompted her to have a final lookat the fine night and beautiful scene. To view those lovely gardensthat were to be hers with Raife. As she approached the window, a slipof paper appeared underneath the door which opened on to a balcony. Shestarted, but Hilda was not the type of girl to scream or becomepanic-stricken. She opened the paper and read a typewritten message ona plain piece of paper:

  "It is dangerous to rob another."

  What did it mean? Rob another of what? Was it her fancy that the paperhad just been placed there, or had it lain there a long time? Perhapsit was a text, or something of that kind. If so, it was harmless andwas, perhaps, a crazy fad of some one who had occupied the room before.She studied the fastenings of the window and went to bed without lookingat the night as she intended. Then she thought of "the other woman"Raife had told her about. She decided to say nothing about it, as itmight make her appear foolish. It was long before sleep overtook her,but her youthful nature asserted itself and she, being very tired, atlength slept.

>   CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  RAIFE'S JEALOUSY ENDS DISASTROUSLY.

  They were happy days at Aldborough Park.

  Each succeeding day seemed to complete the sum of Hilda Muirhead'shopes. In addition to motor-car rides to Southport, the scene ofRaife's first meeting with "the other woman," Gilda Tempest, Hildalearnt the joys of riding behind good horses. Raife was an expert whipand drove a tandem as an expert. The countryside was again alive, nowthat the wayward young man had returned to reside among them. Therewere dinner-parties at the Park, and garden-parties, where Hilda wasintroduced to the county families, some of whom were amiable, and evenaffable, whilst others were