Were these things myths? Were they myths in the life of a man who had gone down to his grave leaving the world no whit better for his presence? He had hoarded his wealth instead of using it. He, living in the richest of homes, had yet been practically homeless; he, with a long rent-roll and a heavy banker’s account, had yet been poorest of the poor. He had never known children to love him or a wife to render his existence beautiful. On his tombstone only one word could be written—Vanity.
I felt all these thoughts. They coursed through my brain as I opened the sacred drawers where the delicate riches from Eastern lands lay treasured up. No clue had I yet obtained to guide me in my search—no papers, no memoranda of any sort. The Eastern perfume began presently to intoxicate me—it seemed to get into my head, to put a light into my eyes and a flush of roses on my cheeks. I felt under a spell. I should not have been the least surprised if Cousin Geoffrey himself had opened the door of the Chamber of Myths and come up to my side and asked me what I did opening coffins. For in one sense these closed drawers were coffins. They held, I made no doubt, many buried hopes.
At one o’clock the rattling of gay, light laughter was heard on the stairs, and Lady Ursula, accompanied by my two relatives—for by these names I was pleased to designate the Valentines—entered.
“We have brought lunch,” said Lady Ursula; “a delicious basketful—containing all kinds of good things. Rupert must open it. Well, Rosamund, what rosy cheeks! Have you found the will?”
“No,” I said. “Please, Lady Ursula—”
“Well, what does this most pleading of pleases mean?”
“We are not going to lunch in this room,” I said.
“Why not? It is a charming room to lunch in. Oh, what a love of a cloth! I must open it. See the delicacy of this ground, and these fairy stitches, and that embroidery. We will spread it over the centre Queen Anne table, and put our lunch on it.”
“You will not,” I said. “The cloth does not belong to us. We have no right to desecrate it.”
“Desecrate! Honour, you mean, Rosamund. Oh! Rupert, Rupert,” continued Lady Ursula, turning to her future husband, “I do pray and trust that you will be discovered to be Cousin Geoffrey’s heir. I absolutely pine for that cloth. I long for it as intensely as I used to long for Rosamund’s ruby ring.”