Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 22

"Her mother and father?" said Mrs. Davenant.

"I said her mother and father, did I not? Just so--her mother and father. Well, we must not expect too much. And after all, it will be far more interesting for you to have a fresh and unsophisticated nature about you, although she may be rather rough and rustic----"

"I shall be quite content if she is a good girl."

"Just so. Virtue is a precious gem though incased in a rough casket."

Gideon Rolfe had returned, but not alone. Emerging from the deep shadow of the trees was what looked to their astonished and unprepared eyes a vision of some wood nymph.

Gideon Rolfe strode forward, his face set hard and sternly cold, and as he reached the cottage he took Una's hand in his, and looking steadily into Stephen's eyes, said:

"Mr. Davenant, I have informed my daughter of your mother's offer to take her under her charge, but I have asked her to postpone her answer until she saw you."

Stephen bowed, and laid his white hand on his mother's arm.

"Miss Rolfe," he said, in a low voice in which paternal kindness and social respect were delicately blended, "this lady is my mother. Like most mothers whose children have flown from the nest, she lives alone and feels her solitude. She is desirous of finding some young lady who will consent to share it with her. It is not only a home she offers you, but--I think I may add, mother--a heart."

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Davenant, and as she held out her hand her voice trembled and a tear shone in her eye.

Una, who had been looking from one to the other, with the breath coming in little pants through her half parted lips, drew near and put her hand in the outstretched one, but the next moment turned and clung to Gideon's arm with a sudden sob.

"Oh, father, I cannot leave you!" she murmured.

Gideon bent his head, perhaps to hide his face, which was working with emotion.

"Hus.h.!.+ it is for the best. Remember what I have said. You wanted to see the world----"

"Yes--with you," said Una, audibly.

"The world and I have parted forever, Una."

"But shall I never see you again?"

"Yes, yes, we shall meet now and again."

"I trust, Miss Rolfe, that we shall wean your father from his long seclusion. You must be the magnet to draw him from his retreat into the busy haunts of men."

"You will come and see me?" she murmured.

"Yes, Una. Go where you will," and he glanced over her head at Stephen, "you may feel that I am watching over you, as I have always watched and guarded you. If any harm comes to you----"

"Harm?" she breathed, and looked up into his face with questioning gaze.

"Come, Mr. Rolfe, you mustn't alarm your daughter," said Stephen, softly. "She will think that the world is filled with lions and wolves seeking whom they may devour. I think you may feel safe from any harm under my mother's protection, Miss Rolfe."

"Yes. I have never had a daughter. If you come you shall be one to me."

"You think me ungrateful?" said Una to her, in her simple, frank way.

"No, my dear," replied Mrs. Davenant. "I think you only show a naturally affectionate heart. You have never been from home before."

"Never," said Una. "Never out of the woods."

"My poor child. No, I do not think you ungrateful. I like to see that you feel leaving home so much. For you will come, will you not? I shall be disappointed and grieved if you do not, now that I have seen you."

"Now that you have seen me," said Una.

"Yes, my dear. For I am sure that I shall love you, and I hope that you will grow fond of me."

"Do you?" said Una, musingly. "Yes," she said, after a pause, "I shall love you."

"Will you kiss me, my dear," she said; and Una bent and kissed her.

"And now that you think--that you are sure you will like me--you will come," said Mrs. Davenant.

Una looked before her thoughtfully, almost dreamily, for a moment, then replied:

"Yes, my father wishes me to go. Why does he wish me to go into the world he hates and fears so much? It was only the other day that he warned me against wis.h.i.+ng for it, and told me that I should never be happy if I left Warden. Why has he changed so suddenly?"

"I--I think it must have been Stephen who persuaded him. I heard them talking together."

"Stephen--that is your son," said Una.

"Yes, he is my son; he is very good and clever--so very clever! He has been a most affectionate son to me, and has never caused me a day's uneasiness."

"All sons are not so?" she asked.

"No, indeed," responded Mrs. Davenant.

"Is he ill?" asked Una, after a pause.

"Ill!"

"Because he is so pale," she said.

"Yes, Stephen is pale. It is because he thinks and reads so much, and then he is in great trouble now; his uncle died three days ago."

"Is that why he is dressed in black--and you, too? I am very sorry."

"Thank you, my dear," said Mrs. Davenant, "that was very nice of you to say that. I can see you have a kind heart. Yes, his uncle is just dead, Mr. Ralph Davenant--Squire Davenant. Why did you start?"--for Una had started and turned to her with a sudden flash of intense interest in her eyes--"did you know him? Ah, no, you could not, if you have not been out of the forest--how strange it seems!--but you have heard of him, perhaps?"

"Yes, I have heard of him."

At that moment the door opened, and Stephen and Gideon Rolfe came out.

The usual smile sat upon Stephen's face, in strange contrast to the stern, set look on his companion's.

Raising his hat to Mrs. Davenant as he approached, Gideon put his hand on Una's shoulder.