Doctor Redfield paced the floor in silence for a few minutes. “I never knew the meaning of the word love, until I met Ethel Horton at Lake Geneva,” he finally said. “My whole heart was, then and there, given to her. I have been waiting the longest year of my life for the letter that never came—a letter that would tell me to come. The destiny marked out for her by her ambitious mother, I fear, has proved stronger than her love. Really, Hugh, did you ever read a more cruel letter than the one Mrs. Horton wrote me?”
“Let me see it again,” said Hugh. “I have a suspicion that Mrs. Horton never wrote that letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jack, in astonishment, as he handed it to Hugh.
“Just this,” replied Hugh, “I have an impression that it was written by Mrs. Osborn. I should like to show this handwriting to Captain Osborn.”
“As you like,” replied Jack. “But what am I to do? Here I am, within a half-hour’s ride of Ethel; have come without her permission, only to learn of her approaching marriage to Lord Avondale. Was ever a man placed in such a trying position?”
“Cheer up, old fellow,” said Hugh, good-naturedly. “Come, faint heart ne’er won fair lady—or anything else. We must prevent this widely-published marriage if possible.”
“Easily enough said,” replied Jack, dejectedly. “Of course,” he went on, half jestingly, “we might raid her home some dark night and carry her off into captivity, and then take our chances on a reconciliation.”
“Not a bad idea, after all,” said Hugh, elevating his eyebrows, “and if we are pushed too closely by the enemy, we may consider the plan seriously. You see, Jack, I would not be quite frank with you did I not confess that at one time I asked Ethel Horton to become my wife.” Jack looked at his friend in utter astonishment. “Yes,” Hugh went on, “and that is the way I learned of her love for you—a love that you never need doubt. I was dumfounded, for how should I be expected to know that you had ever met her. I finally pulled myself together, however, and sent for you.”
Jack took his friend’s hand in both his own, and pressed it warmly. “Hugh,” said he, “you are a good fellow. The fight is now on, and, with your help, I must and shall win.”
They talked far into the night, but this did not deter them from arising early next morning and making ready for a horseback ride. Immediately after breakfast they set out for Martilla, a little village some fifteen miles to the northwest.