This must be he. But what could he want there in her home? And why had his coming so disturbed her husband, who was usually the coolest and most collected of men?
The blood suddenly leaped to her temples, and then as quickly receded, leaving her very pale, as the answer throbbed in her brain: “A secret in his early life.”
Colonel Mapleson was watching her every expression; he marked the quick color, then her pallor, while he wondered what secret of her past life lay in her acquaintance with August Damon Huntress.
He, however, introduced Geoffrey, whom Mrs. Mapleson greeted very graciously, remarking that she believed she had seen him at the last commencement of Yale, when he had taken his degree at the same time with her son, “whom,” she added, with a covert glance at her husband, “you resemble to a remarkable degree.”
Colonel Mapleson’s heart throbbed heavily. He knew the moment had come when he must unvail a portion of his life which he had believed was buried in oblivion.
“Estelle,” he began, taking a chair and turning his face a little from her, “my object in asking you to meet these gentlemen was because I have a confession to make to them, and—to you; a confession of such a painful nature that I felt I could make it only once, therefore I wish you to hear it at the same time.”
Mrs. Mapleson glanced from him to Geoffrey. She was very quick, and immediately she recalled what Dr. Turner, of Boston, had told her only the previous summer; for it was she who had been his visitor that day; she who had been searching for August Damon’s address in the Boston Directory. She remembered he had told her that the man for whom she was inquiring had adopted and was educating a boy of great promise, and now, in view of his wonderful resemblance to Everet, she began to suspect something of the nature of her husband’s confession.
“It is the strangest thing in the world,” she thought, as she turned her eyes upon Mr. Huntress, and realized who his children, by adoption, were.
“It is the strangest thing in the world,” was echoed in Mr. Huntress’ brain, as he met her glance, and, with a sudden heart-throb of joy, realized something that she did not.
“I will go back as far as my boyhood,” Colonel Mapleson resumed. “You have heard me say, Estelle, that I was in the habit of visiting Vue de l’Eau, often spending weeks and sometimes months with Uncle Jabez when I was a boy. I think I could not have been more than twelve, when, during one of those visits, I became acquainted with a young girl just about my own age, who resided near here with her mother. I refer to Annie Dale.”