Any stranger looking along the terrace at Ravenspur would have been inclined to envy the lot of those who had their habitation there. It looked so grand, so dignified, so peaceful. Brilliant sunshine shone upon the terrace; against the grey stone of the grand old faÇade, the emerald green of the lawns rose refreshing to the eyes, those old lawns like velvet that only come with the passing of centuries.

People from the rush and fret of cities, excursionists, who had their sordid, humdrum life in towns, turned longing eyes to Ravenspur. Anybody who lived in a place like that must be happy.

And some of them looked it. Geoffrey, for instance, as he lounged on the terrace with a cigarette between his strong white teeth. He was seated with a cap over his eyes and appeared to be given over to a pleasant reverie. A rod and an empty fishing basket stood by his side.

Ralph Ravenspur lounged up to him. Perhaps he had been waiting for his nephew. At any rate, he always knew where to find him. He sat with the sunshine full upon his sightless eyes and smoked his pipe placidly.

"There is nobody about?" he asked.

"Nobody," Geoffrey replied. "Do you want to say anything to me?"

Ralph made no reply. Geoffrey watched him curiously.

"Do you know you seem to be a long way off to me this afternoon?" he said presently. "I can't quite explain my meaning. Since you have worn those glasses you look a different man. There, now you are yourself again."

Ralph had taken off the glasses for a moment.

"Is the difference very marked?" Ralph asked.

"Very marked, indeed. Honestly, I should not have known you."

Ralph gave a sigh, whether of sorrow or satisfaction Geoffrey could not say.

"Time will prove whether the disguise is of any value or not," he said. "I came to ask you about this evening. Are you going?"

"Of course I am. Mrs. Mona May fascinates me. On the whole, I have deemed it advisable to say nothing to the others. We cannot call upon Mrs. May and they need not know that I have had any intercourse with her."

Ralph nodded. Perhaps he alone knew the real need for secrecy in this matter.

"Quite right," he said. "The less said the better. She wrote to you, of course?"

"Oh, yes. I had the letter yesterday."

"And destroyed it, of course?"

"Upon my word, I've forgotten. I see you are angry with me. Well, I will try not to make a similar mistake again."

From the expression of his face Ralph was greatly moved. His features flamed with anger, he was trembling with passion to his finger-tips. Then his mood suddenly changed. He laid a kindly hand on Geoffrey's knee.

"My boy," he said, earnestly. "There are reasons, weighty reasons why I cannot take you entirely into my confidence. If I did so, you would see the vital necessity of caution even in the most minute matters. You will see that Mrs. May's letter is destroyed at once."

"I will, uncle. The rest of the family believe I am going to Alton to-night."

Ralph nodded. He seemed already to have forgotten the circumstances. He had fallen into one of those waking reveries that were deep as sleep to most men. Geoffrey spoke to him more than once, but failed to gain the slightest attention. Then Ralph rose and moved away like a man in a dream.

Geoffrey lounged about till he had finished his cigarette. He tossed the end away and then proceeded towards the house. He would get that letter and destroy it without further delay. But this was easier said than done, for the simple reason that the letter was nowhere to be found. High and low Geoffrey searched for it, but all to no purpose.

Had he left it in the dining-room or the library? Possibly in the latter place, seeing that he had written a couple of notes there earlier in the day. It was dim, not to say gloomy in the library, and for a moment Geoffrey failed to see that Vera was seated at the table.

He crossed over and touched her caressingly on the cheek. She looked up coldly.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"A letter, dearest," Geoffrey replied. "But why do you look so strange——"

"Oh, you ask me that! It is a letter you are looking for. Then perhaps I may be so fortunate as to assist you. I have just found a letter lying here addressed to you. As it lay with face open I could not but read it. See here!"

A square of thick scented notepaper filled with a dashing black caligraphy shook before Geoffrey's eyes. It was Mrs. May's writing beyond a doubt. Geoffrey flushed slightly as he took the note.

"Read it," Vera said quietly, "read it aloud."

Geoffrey did so. It struck him now—it had never occurred to him before—that the writer was slightly caressing in her manner of phrasing. There was a suggestion of something warmer and more personal than the stereotyped lines implied.

"So this is the Alton where you are going to-night?" Vera went on. "Who is the woman? How long have you known her?"

The quick blood came flaming to Geoffrey's face. He had never seen Vera hard and cold like this before. It was a woman and not a girl who was speaking now. Geoffrey resented the questions; they came as a teacher addresses a child.

"I cannot tell you," he said. "It has to do with the family secret."

"And you expect me to believe this, Geoffrey?"

"Of course I do," Geoffrey cried. "Did you ever know me tell you a lie? And, after all the years we have been together, you are going to be jealous of the first woman who comes along! Have I been mistaken in you, Vera?"

The girl's beautiful eyes filled with tears. She had been sorely vexed and hurt, far more hurt than she cared Geoffrey to know. For it seemed to her that he had wilfully deceived her, that he was going to see this creature of whom he was secretly ashamed, that he had lied so that he could seek her company without suspicion in the minds of others.

"If you give me your word of honor," Vera faltered, "that you——"

"No, no," Geoffrey cried. "I merely state the facts and you may believe them or not as you please. Who Mrs. May is I decline to say. How I became, acquainted with her I also decline to explain. Suffice it that she is Mrs. May, and that she has rooms at Jessop's farm."

"And that is all you are going to tell me, Geoffrey?"

"Yes, Vera. If you have lost faith in me——"

"Oh, no, no! Don't say such cruel things, Geoff. Whom have I beyond my parents and you in the whole world! And when I found that letter, when I knew what you said about Alton was—was not true——"

She paused unable to proceed. Her little hands went out imploringly and Geoffrey caught them in his own. He drew her to his side and gazed into her eyes.

"Darling," he whispered, "you know that I love you?"

"Yes, dear, it was foolish of me to doubt it."

"I love you now and always. I can never change. I did not intend to tell you about this woman because it was all part of the secret. The wise man among us has said it, and his word is law. I am speaking of Uncle Ralph."

Vera nodded with a brighter glance. Had not she a secret in common with Ralph?

"Say no more," she whispered. "I am ashamed of myself."

Geoffrey kissed the quivering red lips passionately.

"Spoken like my own, Vera," he said. "Now I will give you my word of honor——"

"No, no. It is not necessary, Geoff. I was foolish. I might have known better. Not another thought will I give to Mrs. Mona May."

Vera spoke in all sincerity. But our thoughts are often our masters and they were so in this case. Mona May was a name graven on Vera's mind, and the time was coming when with fervent gratitude she blessed the hour when she had found that letter.