“Was she so very troublesome?”
“No; I did not mean that. I—I—But, mother, perhaps you are too tired for me to talk to you to-night?”
“No, indeed: I could sit up for hours. But have you seen Camille yet?”
“Yes, I have seen her. I will describe to you, mother, the charming interview I have just held with my wife,” he replied, in tones of bitter mockery.
She listened while he went over the painful scene, and her eyes reflected the indignation that flashed from his.
“How could she be so unjust, so cruel? Oh, I never dreamed that the daughter of my old friend could be so jealous and so suspicious,” she cried, in real distress, for the mother knew that she was in some degree responsible for her son’s misery.
She had fostered and encouraged the boy’s passion for the mature siren.
The close of the war had left her an impoverished widow with an only son, and it had taxed her shallow resources to provide means for him to have an education such as befitted a De Vere who had some of the best blood of France as well as of the South in his veins. But she sent him to college, and it was on a visit home at Christmas that she took him to call on a lady who was wintering in Jacksonville—a Miss Acton—the daughter of an old friend of hers. Miss Acton was an orphan, and had inherited a million of dollars from her California father and a beautiful face from her mother. She was alone in Florida, except for her fashionable friends and her French maid. She told Mrs. de Vere, who had sought her out for her mother’s sake, that she was unmarried still, because she could put no faith in the disinterested love of any man.
Mrs. de Vere took her son with her when he came home at Christmas to call on the distrustful heiress. He was young and impressionable, and Camille Acton did not look twenty-five. Her beauty, her style, her Parisian costume, all combined made so strong an impression that he fell ardently in love, and as he had the beauty of an Adonis, it was no wonder that her fiery heart was thrilled in return. The ambitious mother saw all with astonishment and delight. She invited Miss Acton to winter at Castle Rackrent, as she often bitterly termed it, and between the two maneuvering women the fatal match was made.
A European tour followed upon the brilliant wedding that took place in a few months, and they remained abroad for a year, during which time the Jacksonville home was put into perfect repair and elegantly refurnished with the bride’s money for a winter residence. In due time they came back, but not before the boy had discovered that he had wedded a beautiful Xanthippe.