"He made me an offer of marriage, which, of course, I refused," Ruth said, flippantly, and then darted off to seek safety in her own room before the offended matron could empty upon her the vials of her wrath.
On her way up she was stopped by Mildred Chisel, who held up a new doll for inspection. "I call her Jane," said the small child, in a confidential whisper. "She is new, but her clothes are old. See, Aunt Ruth, she has all the dresses and brooches of old Peggy."
Ruth looked carelessly at the doll. Then her eyes were suddenly caught by an ornament which served, in Mildred's eyes, for a brooch. It was a gold oval, enamelled with a horse, and it was the double--in all but the device--of the link which she had found. "Where did you get that?" she asked, faintly.
"Oh, grandpapa gave me that brooch!" replied the child.
[CHAPTER XV.]
THE PUNISHMENT OF CURIOSITY.
For the first time in her careless, happy life Ruth knew the torments of an anxious mind. A chill struck through her very being at the suggestion that her dearly-loved father might be implicated in the sordid tragedy. Yet she did not lose her presence of mind, but wheedled the so-called brooch out of Mildred on the strict understanding that it should be restored next morning.
Her thoughts were painful in the extreme. For an examination of the piece of gold proved beyond doubt that it belonged to the same set of links as did the one she found under the window. Now Ruth recollected that in some Bond-street shop she had seen a similar set of links, the four ovals of which were enamelled respectively with a horse, a champagne bottle, a pack of cards, and a ballet girl. They were playfully denominated the four vices.
"Of course it is utterly impossible that he can have anything to do with it," she thought as she paced her bedroom. "There could have been no motive. Yet again, how did he, of all men, come into possession of that link?"
She remembered now the horror she had felt at the idea of marrying Neil when she had come to know that his mother was--at least to all outward appearances--a murderess. She judged that if her father should be guilty then Geoffrey would feel the same towards her. Again and again she tried to find some explanation, and again and again she failed. Only by her father himself could her doubts be set at rest, and he was absent. True, he would return in three days; but how to live during that time with this hideous doubt in her mind? She could imagine now how people felt when they were going mad. Sending down an excuse for not appearing at dinner, she went to bed. To face the world, even her own small world, was more than she could bear. Her only relief was in solitude.