Raoul Dauvray has finished the artistic labors of his commissions. He is now only an occasional visitor. If he has the love of the heiress he dares not claim her yet. The fiery Zouave chafes in vain. Natalie holds him off. PŠre Fran‡ois whispers, "Wait and hope!"
With the blindness of preoccupation, Natalie sees not how the tendrils of "first love" have filled the girl's heart. The young soldier-artist rules that gentle bosom. Love finds its ways of commune. Marriage seems impossible for years. Isabel must mount her "golden throne" before suitors can come to woo. A sculptor! The idea is absurd.
Not a single trace is left of "Louise Moreau." Natalie's lip curls as she fathoms the motive of the girl's disappearance. Friends of Marie B‚rard's have probably secreted her, as a part of the old scheme of blackmail upon her. Did the secret die with her? It is fight now. She muses: "Now they may keep her. The seal of the grave is on the only lips which could tell the story of Lagunitas." Villa Rocca even, does not know who the child was! His evidence would be valueless.
If—yes, if the Dauvray household should seek to fathom the history of the waif, how like an everyday history is the story in reply:
"Marie B‚rard wished to disembarrass herself of her fatherless child. She yet wished to hold some claim on the future in its behalf. That explains Louise Moreau's motives." There is a high wall of defence around her whole position. Her own child dead; but where, or how? She must invent. Walls have been scaled, my Lady of the Castle Dangerous. The enemy is mining under your defences, in silence.
With Villa Rocca's nerve and Italian finesse, even Hardin can be managed. If HE should die, then the dark secret of her child's transformation is safe forever!
Days fly by. Time waits for no aching hearts. There is a smile of satisfaction on the lovely face of Natalie. She peruses the letters from Hardin and the count. They announce the arrangement of the dower for the absent "Irene Duval." Villa Rocca is in San Francisco. The count forwards one set of the drafts, without comments. He only says he will bring the seconds, and thirds of exchange himself, He is going to come "home."
He announces his departure to the interior with Judge Hardin. He wishes to see the properties and interests held for Madame de Santos by her lawyer.
In a month he will be on his homeward way; Judge Hardin has loyally played his part. Villa Rocca's letters prove his respect for a bride who brings him a half million. The letters warm visibly. Even an Italian count can be impressed by solid wealth. Natalie de Santos's lips curl in derision of man. Her clouded history is now safe. Yes, the golden glitter of her ill-gotten fortune will cover all inquiry as to the late "Se¤or de Santos," of shadowy memory. She IS safe!
It is only a fair exchange of courtesy. She has not investigated the family stories of the noble Villa Rocca.