“No one; I am going to trace out that Annie Dale’s history, if you must know. I believe Geoffrey Dale Huntress is in some way connected with her, and,” he burst out excitedly, “I am going to know!”
“Nonsense! What good will it do you? Everet,” she added, as a sudden thought came to her, “you are in love with that girl, Gladys Huntress, and you are jealous of him.”
“Well?”
“You have conceived the idea that Annie Dale disappeared because of some wrong that she had done, and that this Geoffrey Huntress may be her child, and not of honorable birth. You believe, if you can prove this, that Miss Huntress will never marry him, and you will then be able to win her.”
Mrs. Mapleson had said this looking straight into her son’s eyes, and seeming to read his soul like an open book.
“Mother, your penetration is something remarkable. I could almost believe you to be a mind-reader,” he replied half guiltily.
Then, after a moment of thought, he continued, excitedly:
“Yes, I may as well confess it—I am madly in love with Gladys Huntress, and have been for more than a year. I have vowed that I will win her if it can be accomplished, even though I know that she loves this fellow, who has been nothing but a stumbling-block in my path since the day I first met him. I am going to Richmond, as you surmise, to trace Annie Dale’s history from the time of her disappearance, and I fully believe that I shall discover that this Geoffrey Dale is her son. If he is a child of shame, I do not believe that Gladys Huntress will marry him, and I may yet be happy.”
Mrs. Mapleson looked deeply troubled over this confession.
“Everet,” she said, gravely, “I am afraid that you are building upon a false foundation, and your hopes will come to naught. If this girl truly loves that young man, and he is worthy of her, she will marry him, or I am very much mistaken in my estimate of her character.”