"That is not a bad idea," said Denzil, thoughtfully. "It gives one something to do—something to take off one's thoughts from the disappointment—the anxiety." He fell silent, twisting his hands in his nervous misery. "Aunt Bee," he brought out, at last, "whatever happens—whatever should come out—I must marry her. I feel towards her as I never thought to feel towards any woman in the world. I always thought all the stuff in books about being in love was such nonsense. But now——" He could not go on.
"God bless you, old man; it will do you all the good in the world," said his aunt, heartily. "A thing like this shows one how far one's feeling is really genuine and deep. It is a good thing the path of your happiness is not too smooth. I do think myself, though I am not in love with her—I do think the girl is fine, and worth a fight. I have always known she had some secret anxiety, but have put it down to the fact that she could not be candid with me about her birth and so on. That she was actually engaged all this time to your remarkable brother has been a heavy burden to be borne by such young shoulders. Her courage and prudence are both wonderful."
"Think," said Denzil, hardly able to speak for a feeling which threatened to choke him. "Think of her actually throwing herself out of a window down upon railway lines, sooner than suffer degradation! You are right. She is wonderful. Good-night, my dear aunt."
They separated, feeling more in sympathy than ever in their lives before.
CHAPTER XXI
DENZIL DOES HIS DUTY
But did she love him?—what and if she did? ...
Love has no spell can scorching winds forbid,
Or bring the help which tarries near to hand,
Or spread a cloud for curtaining fading eyes
That gaze up dying into alien skies.
—JEAN INGELOW.
A fortnight passed at Normansgrave, in doubt and discomfort. It was fortunate that the house was full of visitors, for their entertainment served to take off the thoughts of the master of the house from his own interrupted and absorbing romance.
Upon the day following his proposal to Veronica in the Abbey ruins he wrote to Felix, a letter which seemed to him of a dignified and most fraternal character. He said, in effect—"All is known, but at the same time all is forgiven. Come home and let us settle things up. I wish to treat you quite fairly, though I do not think that you have so treated me."
His next care was to go to London, and, with the utmost secrecy and precaution, set on foot a private inquiry for the man Rankin Leigh. He likewise spent some time in Somerset House, searching the register for the entry of Rona's birth. She knew the exact year, month, and day, but, for safety's sake, he also investigated the corresponding month in the years following and preceding. There was no entry of any Veronica Leigh during the three years studied by him.