Marjorie was turning over the leaves of the album, and had just been admiring a beautiful view of Monaco, when she suddenly came to one which brought all the blood rushing into her face. It was a photo of Lady Violet sitting on a rock near the sea, and close by her side and looking over the same book with her was Captain Fortescue.
Marjorie would have known him anywhere; but she had never seen him look quite as he looked then. There was not a vestige of care on his face; he was evidently enjoying life to the full. She gazed a long time at this picture, and Lady Violet, glancing round, noticed how she coloured when she looked at it, and then how all the colour faded out of her face.
"Oh! That is a very great friend of mine," she said. "He helped me to take nearly all those Riviera photos. Evelyn took several of us together, and they came out very well. What is the matter, Marjorie?"
"Oh! Nothing; only it reminded me of some one I know."
"Did it? Isn't it awfully funny how one sees likenesses sometimes! Turn over; there are some more of him in that book. Isn't he good-looking?"
Marjorie did not answer; her heart was beating too quickly.
So he knew Lady Violet—yes, and admired her too; she could see that by his face in several of the photos where they were taken together. And what a handsome pair they made! They were just suited to each other. And now he was a lord; she had no doubt of it from that letter she had read. Had he discovered his parentage? Had he, in those long months since she had heard of him, found his father, and claimed his fortune? Could it be that he was the one whom Lady Violet was about to marry, the one who had admired her long ago, but whom she had refused because of some reason which stood in the way? Could that reason have been the loss of his money, and his being compelled to leave the army?
If so, Marjorie could quite understand that now this difficulty was probably removed. If he had found his father, if he had inherited a title, if he was heir to a large property, then surely no objection to their engagement could be urged.
Now, of course, she could see the reason of his long silence. It was now the end of March, and she had never seen him or heard of him since that October night when he had brought her home from Birmingham. Why had she expected to see him or to hear from him? How blind and foolish she had been!
Lady Violet seemed impatient that she should close the book, and Marjorie put it back in its place on the shelf. She wanted to ask her if Captain Fortescue was the one to whom she was engaged, but she felt that she could not bring herself to do so. She was so strongly convinced in her own mind that she was right in her conclusion, that she felt as if she could not steady her voice sufficiently to frame the question. Not for worlds would she have Lady Violet know what she had felt when she saw that photograph. How silly she had been! How foolish it was to have dwelt on what was merely a passing feeling of gratitude for a little service which she had rendered him! No one should know; no one should ever guess what she had sometimes thought and hoped. Least of all should Lady Violet know or guess.