The next morning Mr. Huntress went to the house where Everet Mapleson had been accustomed to stop, but he was not to be found there. He had left nearly two weeks previous—the day after he had met Gladys at the opera—they discovered later.
Afterward they learned that he had hidden himself in a little town a few miles out of the city, and there matured his plans, and hired his accomplice to assist in his miserable plot on the evening of the wedding.
Upon leaving the Huntress mansion, after his interview with Geoffrey, and the discovery that he knew so much of his history, he had stolen away to the nearest hotel, where, after thinking everything quietly over, he began to realize that he could never compel Gladys to acknowledge herself as his wife; he believed, too, that the courts would, upon learning the facts, annul the marriage.
“Oh! if I had only kept still, and got her away before the deception was discovered, my triumph would have been complete, and now I have lost everything.” he groaned in impotent wrath; and yet he was so furious at Geoffrey that he vowed he would make a desperate fight against a divorce, if for nothing but to keep the lovers apart. But until they should take some decisive step he resolved to keep still and out of sight, for he also was far too proud to care to become the subject of a scandal.
It occasioned no surprise among the friends of the Huntress family when they learned that “young Mrs. Huntress” had not been able to sail for Europe, and that the trip was to be postponed for at least another month—possibly until spring.
Her physician also prohibited all callers and excitement, giving as a reason that her strength had been overtaxed, and she had barely escaped nervous prostration.
People did not wonder at this; it appeared very reasonable, for they knew the season had been very gay, that the young couple had been in great demand, and all this, together with the excitement and care of preparing for such a wedding, was enough to wear out any young girl.
So Gladys and her mother remained quietly at home, hedged about with these restrictions, while Geoffrey and Mr. Huntress went South.
Mr. Huntress had insisted upon accompanying the young man, for he was determined that full justice should be done the boy whom he had reared and loved as his own son. If Colonel Mapleson had wronged his mother he should at least tell the story kindly and courteously to her child; if he had inherited anything from her it would be his business to see that he had his rights.
The weary travelers reached Richmond late one afternoon. They found that Vue de l’Eau—Colonel Mapleson’s estate—was a long distance from the city, and they would be obliged to hire some conveyance thither.