It was an idyllic evening, this first one of love and trust; a brief dream such as one has in the moment before waking. Bowing before my idol, I had humbly acknowledged myself wrong, and my well-beloved had frankly forgiven and forgotten. There was a long silence, deep and impressive, broken only by the confused sound from the street that came in through the open window. Then, when she stirred again and raised her head, I told her of my position at the Foreign Office, and the probability of my appointment to a diplomatic post abroad.
She listened, her clear, trusting eyes fixed upon me. She, too, was ambitious.
“It’s a great responsibility for any woman,” she said at last, “to think she is to be part of a career. I will help you, my darling,” then she buried her face again in my coat-collar, protesting fervently, “I will never, never allow myself to hinder you; but will do my utmost to help you to success, only you must have patience with me.” Suddenly she raised her head again, continuing, “I know there is one strange episode in my past that is a mystery to you, nay, to all. My misfortune is that I am unable yet to reveal the truth, because I fear the consequences of such disclosure. Some day you shall know everything, but until then think only of me as the woman who loves you with all her soul.”
She spoke with a terrible earnestness, her slim fingers clutching my arm convulsively, and as I gave my promise to regard her always as a pure and upright woman, and forget the mystery surrounding her, I sealed our compact with a long, passionate kiss.
Mrs Laing, stiff and stately in black satin, entered the room a few moments later, and Ella, having whispered and obtained my consent, forthwith made a full and complete statement to her mother of the position of affairs. The old lady listened attentively in silence, inclining her head now and then with a gesture indicative of approbation, but when her daughter had concluded her face brightened.
“I am indeed glad to think that dear Ella is to marry you after all, Geoffrey,” she said. “Once, not so very long ago, I feared that you two would never again be reconciled, for Ella moped day after day, crying, and quite spoiling her complexion. But the old saying about the course of true love contains much truth, and now that your little differences are readjusted, there can be no cause for any further regret. That Ella loves you dearly, I, as her mother, have had better opportunity for knowing than anyone else and were it not for the fact that I am convinced you both will be happy, I should never give my consent to your marriage. But I am absolutely sure that this marriage is one that Ella’s father would have approved, therefore you have my entire consent and heartiest congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mrs Laing,” I answered. “I, too, am convinced that we love each other sufficiently well, and I can only promise to be a sympathetic and devoted husband.”
Ella, who, standing beside her mother’s chair, had entwined her arms affectionately around her neck, slowly released her, and walked across the room to turn the lamp higher. Then, deeming it but just that they both should know the reason of my recent coolness and suspicion, I told them in confidence of the mysterious theft of the secret convention, the strange and tragic events that followed, the discovery of the seal on the body of Dudley Ogle, and my absurd belief that Ella had, in some way, been implicated in the ingenious efforts of the spy.
“Do you actually suspect poor Dudley of having been in the pay of the Russian Government?” Mrs Laing asked, open-mouthed, in dismay.
“I do,” I was constrained to reply. “There is no shadow of doubt that he was a spy. He tricked you as he did myself. I was his best friend, yet he nearly ruined all my prospects in the Service.”