“Of this day week?” asked Van Hupfeldt, eagerly.
“Be it so,” said Violet, for she had a plan in her mind now, and whatever happened, a week’s grace was sufficient.
“Mrs. Mordaunt and I are appointed trustees pro tem for the purposes of the marriage settlement,” went on Sharpe. “Mr. Van Hupfeldt will, of course, execute a fresh will after marriage. All we need now are two witnesses for various signatures. My clerk, who is waiting in the hall, will serve as one.”
“The girl, Sarah Gissing, who was here just now, might be called in,” said Mrs. Mordaunt.
“No, no!” cried Van Hupfeldt. “She is a stranger. After to-day she vanishes from our lives. Please summon one of your own servants—the housekeeper, or a footman.”
So Violet and Van Hupfeldt and Mrs. Mordaunt and the witnesses signed their names on various parchments at places where the lawyer had marked little crosses in pencil.
Violet, as in a dream, saw the name “Henry Van Hupfeldt” above that of “Violet Mordaunt,” just as it appeared over “Gwendoline Mordaunt” in the marriage certificate. In her eyes, the tiny crosses made the great squares of vellum look like the chart of a cemetery. Yet there was something singing sweetly in her ears: “You still have a week of liberty. Use your time well. Not all the law in the land can force you to the altar unless you wish it.” And this lullaby was soothing.
Soon the solicitor took off himself and his duplicates, for he handed certain originals to Violet, advising her to intrust them to the care of a bank or her mother’s legal advisers. Van Hupfeldt, with a creditable tact, set himself to entertain the two ladies, and when Violet wished to interview “Sarah Gissing” again, he explained that the girl had been sent back to London by his orders.
“No more tears,” he said earnestly; “no more doubtings and wonderings. When we return from a tour in the States you shall meet her again and satisfy all your cravings.”
Evidently his design was to remain at Dale Manor until they were quietly married, and, meanwhile, surround the place with every possible protection. It came, therefore, as a dreadful shock to him when Violet disappeared for a whole hour after breakfast next morning, and then Mrs. Mordaunt, red-eyed and incoherent, rushed to find him with a note which had just reached her from the station.