“Anne Whiteside? Yes, I remember her well. I must be careful, or she will recognise me. She was always very shrewd.”
Raie glanced up at him thoughtfully.
“I wish you would go and see Lady Montella and Lionel before you go away,” she said, with a touch of entreaty. “I am sure they would receive you well.”
He shook his head.
“I intend to have nothing to do with the Montellas until my innocence has been proved,” he rejoined firmly. “I do not desire pity or forgiveness; I want only justice.”
“But you will claim your title, surely? Even if it is not of much value away from England, it is your right. Some day we may all return.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“For myself I care nothing; I have roughed it too long to wish for anything of the sort. If I claim it, dearest, it will be for you.”
The colour came into her cheeks, and she made no reply. Of all the strange coincidences she had met with during her short life, this seemed the strangest. Her eyes shone with a new light when, a few minutes later, she rejoined the Princess; and on the homeward journey she was unusually silent. As they passed through the outskirts of Haifa, she found herself with her lover at the head of the little cavalcade a few paces in advance, and begged him to allow her to confide in her friend. She was so anxious to tell someone that she was afraid she would not be able to refrain from introducing the subject; so Ferdinand, knowing that the Princess could be trusted, consented. The occasion was celebrated by a dainty supper in the hotel, and Raie’s eyes shone as they had never done before. And even when her lover took his departure a few days later, the love-light in her eyes remained, so that the Montellas wondered what had come to her, and why she was so unusually joyous. Perhaps the girl wondered at herself, for it seemed almost incredible that the mere fact of knowing Ferdinand should make so great a difference. But the fact remained, and she had no power to prevent it—indeed, she had no wish that it should be otherwise. Gazing into her mirror one morning, she was astonished to find how well she looked—how her eyes sparkled, and how vivacious was the expression on her face.
“I shall be quite pretty by the time Ferdie comes back,” she said softly to herself, exhibiting for the first time a sense of vanity. “I want to be pretty for him. For myself, I do not care at all; but for him—”