“Yes; I think I know of a way. Lionel has some letters of mine locked up in that safe. If I ask him, he will give me the keys. I shall do it in less than a month, if I can do it at all. But oh, I wish there were some other means!”
She sighed, and seeing the cloud on her usually bright face, he did his best to drive it away. Then promising to meet her at Lionel’s new house the following day at sunset, he took his departure, and she was left to meditate on the subject of his request. After all, it was not so very dreadful: only to take a few papers out of the safe if she could find them, and to put them back after they had been read. But it was the idea of secrecy that she did not like; of performing an action of which she feared Lionel Montella would not approve. Since she had promised, however, there was no retraction possible, and she reminded herself of the fact with firmly-set lips.
Zillah Lorm could talk of nothing else but “Mr. Merryweather” that night. She considered him distinctly handsome, and although his manners were somewhat colonial, he was evidently cultured and well-read. Raie listened to her eulogy with a feeling akin to jealousy, and refused to state how she had become acquainted with the young man. Whereupon her interlocutor stormed the citadel by making certain suppositions, to be contradicted by Raie if she chose to do so.
“A secret love-affair!” she said, when she had almost exhausted her remarks. “I should not have thought it of you, Raie. And with a man so much older than yourself! Do you know anything of his family?”
“Yes, I know his people very well,” answered the girl, almost petulantly; and then she excused herself and went to bed. She was determined not to discuss Ferdinand with Zillah Lorm.
“Little chit!” exclaimed Zillah to herself, as she left the room. “I shall soon stop her game when Lady Montella comes back. I don’t believe she knows much more about him than I do. And as if a man of his calibre could really be in love with a silly little thing like her! Absurd! He would be much more likely to fancy a beautiful woman—like myself. I wonder—”
And resting her finely chiselled face on her hand, she gave herself up to cogitations which were vague, but pleasant. She was of too unscrupulous a nature to consider the claims of Raie.
CHAPTER XIII
THE EMPTY HOUSE
The Montellas were back in Haifa. They arrived late in the afternoon, after a stormy passage from Jaffa, and received a hearty welcome from the two girls. But of course the absence of Patricia made itself felt, even though they were careful not to mention it. It was as if a shadow had fallen on the house which made them speak softly, as though there had been a death. Lionel spent the greater part of his time in his study, and seemed always anxious to get away from his family. His most constant companion was his little boy; otherwise he preferred to be alone.
He had dreaded the return to Haifa, and had postponed it as long as possible, knowing that his worthy citizens were all agog on the matter of his wife’s departure. His eyes were open to the mingled glances of scorn and sympathy which were cast upon him when he walked through the streets of the town; and he refused to give the explanation which was expected, yet could not very well be sought. He took his part in communal matters with the same energy as of old; but apart from his official duties he was as immovable as the Sphinx. Declining all the invitations which poured in upon him from the wealthier members of the corporation, he seemed to wish to lead the life of a recluse. His mother knew not whether to be displeased or grieved, but remonstrated with him vigorously on the subject one day.