“That voice!” he cried in triumph. “Why did I not recognize it before? But I know the truth now—I know the amazing truth!”
And he laughed harshly to himself as he paced his room.
Next day Philip Poland spent in his garden, reading beneath the big yew, as was his wont. But his thoughts ever wandered from his book, as he grew apprehensive of the evil his enemy was about to hurl upon him. His defiance, he knew, must cost him his liberty—his life. Yet he was determined. For Sonia’s sake he had become a changed man.
At noon Shuttleworth, calm and pleasant, came across the lawn with outstretched hand. He uttered low words of encouragement and comfort. He said that poor Mrs. Dixon had passed away, and later on he left to attend to his work in the parish. After luncheon, served by the silent Felix, Poland retired to his study with the newspaper, and sat for two hours, staring straight before him, until, just after four o’clock, the door was suddenly flung open, and a slim, athletic young girl, with a wealth of soft fair hair, a perfect countenance, a sweet, lovable expression, and a pair of merry blue eyes, burst into the room, crying—
“Hallo, dad! Here I am—so glad to be back again with you!” And, bending over him, she gave him a sounding kiss upon the cheek.
She was verily a picture of youthful beauty, in her cool, pale grey gown, her hair dressed low, and secured by a bow of black velvet, while her big black hat suited her to perfection, her blue eyes adoring in their gaze and her lovely face flushed with pleasure at her home-coming.
Her father took her hand, and, gazing lovingly into her eyes, said in a slow voice—
“And I, too, darling, am glad to have you at home. Life here is very dull indeed without you.”
That night, when seated together in the pretty old-fashioned drawing-room before retiring to bed—a room of bright chintzes, costly knick-knacks, and big blue bowls of sweet-smelling pot-pourri—Sonia looked delightful in her black net dinner-gown, cut slightly décolleté, and wearing around her slim white throat a simple necklace of pale pink coral.
“My dear,” exclaimed her father in a slow, hesitating way, after her fingers had been running idly over the keys of the piano, “I want to speak very seriously to you for a few moments.”