Unusual anxiety agitated the breast of Jerry Vane on this night; the strange words and stranger manner of Ida had made a great impression upon him.
That she respected him deeply he saw plainly enough; but her regard for him, if it existed at all, which he often doubted, at least, such regard as he wished, seemed merely that of a sister; and every way the altered terms on which they now were seemed singular and perplexing; and yet he loved her fondly, truly, and, when he thought of her shattered health, most compassionately.
On entering the drawing-room, which was brilliantly lighted, he saw Ida within an arched and curtained alcove that opened out of it; the blue silk hangings were festooned on each side by silver tassels and cords. The recess was thus partly in shadow, and, within, Ida reclined on a couch, near which lay a book, that had apparently dropped from her hand.
Her attitude, expressive of great excitement or of great grief, made Vane pause for a moment. Her figure was in shadow, but her lovely auburn hair glittered in light as she lay back on the couch, with her white hands covering her eyes, pressing, to all appearance, hard upon them, while heavy sobs convulsed her bosom and throat.
Vane was about to approach and question her as to this excessive grief, when his blood ran cold on perceiving the figure of a gentleman bending tenderly and caressingly over her—the man of the arbour.
His form was in shadow, but his face was most distinct; it was handsome in contour, though very pale; his eyes, that were cast fondly down on Ida, were dark, as Vane could perceive, and his thick moustache was jetty in hue.
What could he have to say to Ida that agitated her thus? And who was this stranger who seemed to avail himself of every conceivable moment she was alone to thrust himself upon her?—if, indeed, he were not, as Jerry's jealousy began to hint, but too welcome!
How many times had he been with her, unknown to all? was the next bitter thought that flashed upon him.
He resolved to bring Chute to the spot, for Chute had never believed the stories of Ida and her mysterious friend or admirer; so, instead of boldly advancing and intruding upon them, he softly quitted the room, and met the Captain in the entrance hall.
'Where is Clare?' he asked.