As Conyers went sadly away, he moodily added: “And that is to answer ‘Yes’ to his offer of his hand and fortune.”
Hugh Conyers was absent, engaged in throwing the mantle of charity about Vreeland’s sudden death, when Senator Alynton was led into Elaine’s presence by Judge Endicott.
It was only a matter of a few moments for the load to be lifted from the woman’s agitated heart. “There is no receipt needed,” gravely said Endicott.
“Of course the possession of such a paper is as dangerous to friend as foe. I have no fears that any one will ever call on Mrs. Willoughby for it again.”
Alynton gazed upon the troubled face of the woman whose empire over his heart only grew more perfect day by day.
“I must come to you at another time. Can I write?” he murmured. And Elaine Willoughby bowed her head in silence then, for his speaking eyes told the story of a life’s hopes. He forebore, in sheer mercy, to press his suit upon her now.
The great Senatorial millionaire gazed uneasily at Endicott. “I heard a strange rumor down at the Waldorf from young Wiltshire, about Vreeland’s individual failure on the Street being announced.”
“Not another word, I beg, Senator,” hurriedly said the old lawyer, courteously taking his arm.
“My client has been too sadly shocked,” and with the promise of his own return in the evening, Endicott led his captive away.
“Thank God! They know nothing as yet!” cried the Lady of Lakemere, as she called Mary Kelly to her side.