They smiled tenderly upon the old man's delusion.
CHAPTER XIV
"YOU NEVER WERE MINE"
—You have taken from me
The Present, and I murmur not, nor moan;
The Future too, with all her glorious promise;
But do not leave me utterly alone!
Spare me the Past.
—ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
For Denzil Vanston the days which ensued upon his homecoming were days of charm and wonder. Life for him took on new colors, the presence of Rona in the house gave an unwonted zest even to the most trivial things.
Miss Rawson watched, well pleased, the intercourse between the two.
They played tennis and golf, they rowed and punted together. Rona's physical health was perfect, and she was apparently never tired.
But when a fortnight of such dalliance had gone by, the vigilant aunt began to think that, if anything were to come of it, she had better take some steps to force the pace.
Denzil had never been a hot-blooded young man, and he was no longer in his first youth. He seemed quite satisfied with what his aunt impatiently characterized to herself as "philandering" with the beautiful girl with whom his generosity had enabled him to be on terms of intimacy. He did not make love to Veronica. He complacently played a semi-paternal part, treating her indulgently, as a beloved child; and he was, to all appearance, abundantly content with the situation as it was.
But the looker-on knew that this apparently stable and well-balanced position must of necessity be of a most temporary and elusive character. Veronica had not been a week in the house, when the young men of the neighborhood took to coming to call in a persistent and unusual manner; and invitations to dinner arrived, pointedly including "the young friend who is staying with you."