The Playground of Satan

by Beatrice C. Baskerville

To his mother he felt bound by a degree of affection and sympathy which rarely survive a son's early childhood. Other women bored him. His name had not been linked with one, of good repute or bad. Indeed, his circumspection with the opposite sex had become a joke among his friends, who teased him about it and searched for some well-hidden passion. But they did not find one, and contented themselves with dubbing him a woman-hater; which he was not. He knew he must marry some day; for what would become of Ruvno without an heir? But as the pleasant years slipped by, he told himself there was still time. And far down in his heart he had always relied upon Vanda.

Did he love her? The question rapped him as he left the rose garden for the paddock. He thought not. He liked to have her in the house, driving with his mother, keeping her company, helping her to entertain visitors during the shooting season, or going with her to Warsaw for shopping and the play. He knew she was fond of him; accepted her affection as he accepted so many other things which were daily facts in his existence. In the rare moments when he thought about marriage at all he comforted himself with the reflection that she was there, ready for the asking when the inevitable day came. It never crossed his mind that she might refuse. It would be so comfortable, one day, to wed her. Life would be the same as before. His mother would go on living with them; Vanda would wear the family jewels; the rooms that had been his own nurseries would be reopened and refurnished. And in due time little people would play and sleep in them as he and Vanda had done.

He was shy of other girls; they bored him; he never knew what to talk about. And he would have had to woo anybody but Vanda; no girl with any self-respect would marry him without preliminaries in which compliments and attention played a large part. Vanda did not ask to be wooed. They had met daily for years. And she was so suitable; so comely and well-bred, so thoroughly sound in her ideas of life, marriage and society. She would not want to drag him off to Monte Carlo and Paris every year. She loved the country, and Ruvno; knew his life and would not expect him to change it. Another bride might have all kinds of ideas in her head, might not like the place, or his mother, from whom he refused to be parted, whatever happened. Therefore her remarks about the Skarbeks worried him; if she noticed a difference in Vanda, then a difference there must be. He had not noticed it; but then he was particularly interested in some alterations that he was making in the Home Farm and had not paid much attention to her and to Minnie Burton, the English girl who was staying with them. He and Minnie "got on" very well; she was a good horsewoman and a good comrade; rode about with him and Vanda, quite content to talk of whatever work happened to be going on at Ruvno, or not to talk at all. He had been to England a good deal, spent a couple of years at Oxford after leaving Theresarium and made friends with Minnie's two brothers, who were coming to Ruvno for shooting in a month's time. She was to return home with them.

Thus the summer had been passing very pleasantly. Crops were promising, the weather kept fine. Life had never seemed fairer, he and the two girls had agreed that very morning, on their way back to breakfast after an early canter.

And now, the aspect was subtly changed. He looked up at the sky; it was still clear. There would be no rain; his hay was safe. What meant this feeling of vague unrest? Vanda? The idea was absurd. Both brothers could not be coming after her. Roman and Joseph were as different as any two men of one class and race can be. No; they were after horses, or Roman wanted to buy an estate in the neighborhood. He had often spoken of it; all he needed was the cash. Perhaps he had won plenty at Monte Carlo and was coming to spend it. Joseph, with his business head, was meeting him to see he did not spend foolishly. That was the whole thing in a nutshell. Anyway, they would be here before long.

Near the paddock he met Vanda. He was glad; he wanted to watch her face.

"Not so fast," he called out as she was running past with a nod. "Where are you going?"

"Aunt Natalie. I promised to give her an address and forgot all about it. My filly is better. I've just been there."

"You're very smart to-day," he remarked.

She looked down at her skirts.