“You are mistaken, Hilda,” he said, quietly; yet there was something in his heart all the time which contradicted the assertion. “Violet is my betrothed wife, and she loves me.”
“Oh, very well. I have no more to say. Only you will find out the truth some day, then you will remember my warning.”
In the meantime, Violet had returned to her own room, pale and wrathful.
“Let her win him if she can!” she panted. “I will not stand in her way. If Leonard cares for Hilda Rutledge, he shall have the chance to win her. If Hilda cares for him—and I have suspected it long—she shall have every opportunity to gain his love. I would not have his love unless it was free and spontaneous. But he shall trifle with me no longer. I am determined upon that point.”
As the words passed her lips, she heard the rustle of woman’s garments, and a woman stepped over the threshold and entered Violet’s room.
It was old Betty. She held in her hand a huge key; upon her ugly face a strange look of determination hovered.
“Here, Miss Arleigh,” she began at once, an ugly grin overspreading her wrinkled countenance—“here is the key to the east chamber. Just you go there yourself and see what you can find. It will be a grand thing for you if you should find the papers that I have reason to believe are hidden away there. Do not hesitate a moment, or be at all afraid. Mrs. Yorke will never know. See? Now is your time. There is no one around.”
She seized Violet’s hand in a strong grasp, and before the girl could utter a protest, she led her swiftly to a long passage which separated the main building from the eastern portion of the house.
“There!” whispered Betty, in a stage whisper. “Just you follow that passage to the end, then unlock the door before you, and you will be in the east chamber. Once there, search everywhere for the package of papers which will give you your own.”
