He opened the door for her to pass in, then closed it, and returned to his visitors, brushing aside some truant tears as he went.
His face, however, lighted with pleasure as he again entered the library, and looked into Geoffrey’s noble, manly face, and realized that he was really the son of the beautiful young wife whom he so loved years ago.
But the young man himself was very grave.
He felt that he stood in an exceedingly delicate position.
He had come to Colonel Mapleson, believing that he had wronged his mother, and willfully abandoned him when a child; he had meant to denounce him for it, and reveal also the villainy of which his other son had been guilty.
But he had found a father ready and eager to welcome him, ready to acknowledge the wife of his youth, and to give his son the place that rightfully belonged to him; and now it seemed almost cruel to expose the wrong of which his half-brother had been guilty. He could not endure the thought of coming between the two in any way; of destroying the confidence of the father in the son.
Something of this Geoffrey and Mr. Huntress had been considering during Colonel Mapleson’s absence from the room. They had about decided to say nothing of the affair of the interrupted marriage, until they had seen Everet, and acquainted him with the facts which that night had revealed. Perhaps, they could arrange to hush up the matter altogether, if the young man proved to be amicably inclined or reasonable; at all events, they had concluded not to mention the affair that night—to, at least, give it a little more thought first. In explaining about the broken cross, Geoffrey had simply said that they had seen the other half in Everet’s possession, and that he knew nothing of their visit to Vue de l’Eau.
It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from Colonel Mapleson’s heart when he returned.
He drew a chair near his guests, and began at once to enter more into the details of the past. He gave them a full history of his eccentric relative, Robert Dale; told of his long-concealed fortune, when and how it had been discovered, together with the will which bequeathed the whole of it to Geoffrey’s mother.
“This, of course, now becomes yours,” he concluded, turning to the young man, with a smile. “Quite a fine property, it is, too, amounting, with the accumulated interest, to upward of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Besides this, you will inherit one-half of what I possess, the other half going to Everet.”