The Broken Thread

by William Le Queux

roads that led to Aldborough Park, it made anexquisite picture. It was a picture that was entirely unfamiliar toHilda. She may have read of a spring day in "the garden of England,"but she had not seen one, and the sight of it thrilled her. She noticedthe respectful greetings of the labourers, the women and children asthey passed. Sir Raife Remington was a respected power in this land ofhis. He was not an owner of mines and mills in a disaffected area, tobe met with scowls or curt nods. He was a landlord of ancient lineage,among tenants whom he and his ancestors had ruled generously, and withmutual sympathy. A downward sweep and a curve in the road brought themto the lodge gates. The massive wrought-iron gates, surmounted by theReymingtoune arms, were already open. The lodge-keeper and his familywere grouped together, saluting and curtseying to the master ofAldborough on his return from "furrin'" parts. Raife greeted themcheerily, as the car swept through and into the avenue with its longline of stately beeches. Hilda's breast heaved, and her heart throbbed."I am to be Lady Remington and the mistress of all this," she said toherself. She thought of the soot-laden city of Cincinnati, in Ohio,where she had spent so much of her time. She compared the crudeness ofan American landscape with the finished charm of this historical place,of which she was to be mistress. It seemed too good to be true. Thephantom of "the other woman" flitted through her mind, and her pleasurewas, for a time, less restrained.

  As they emerged from the avenue, the mansion, in all its ancientgrandeur, came into view. They passed through the shadow of a group ofancient pines and cedars of Lebanon, a graceful sweep around flower bedsablaze with blossoms brought them to the main entrance, where thestately old butler, Edgson, stood bareheaded to receive them. He wassupported by a group of white-aproned and white-capped maids, and a pertlittle page-boy in livery, with a liberal display of bright buttons.

  Mr Muirhead had not spoken much during the car ride, but his quickpowers of perception had taken in, at a glance, the majesty of this oldTudor mansion. His keen eyes had observed the extended row of gables,the twisted chimneys, the oriel windows, the massive ivy-clad walls, andthe added buttresses. The mind of a banker is trained to values, and ashe surveyed, with his quick comprehensive glance, the extensive stablingand greenhouses, with a vista of beautiful gardens beyond, he wassatisfied that he had not made a mistake in allowing his daughter tobecome mistress of Aldborough Park, and any of the estates and propertythat Raife might own.

  He did not know of Raife's story of "the other woman." By commonconsent it had been agreed that it was not necessary to tell him.Youth, in love, revels in secrets, and this was the secret of theseyoung lovers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  THE MOST MOMENTOUS OCCASION OF HILDA'S LIFE.

  Hilda was a fairly practical, self-reliant, American girl. She was faceto face with the most momentous occasion of her life as she passedthrough that line of respectful servants. With a woman's knowledge shewas fully conscious of the strict scrutiny to which she was beingsubjected from under all those apparently drooping eyelashes.

  "Where is my mother, Edgson?" asked Raife.

  "She is in the library, Sir Raife," answered the old butler.

  "Will you announce us, please. No, don't trouble, I will go upstairsmyself, if you good folk will wait here," and he ushered them into anold oak-panelled room, with gloomy old portraits that seemed to frowndown upon them.

  Raife's meeting with his mother was affectionate, and tears were in hereyes as she asked: "Have you brought her, Raife?"

  He replied, cheerily: "Yes, mother dear, and I want you to like her andgive her and her father a hearty welcome to Aldborough."

  In somewhat anxious tones, she said: "I hope I shall, dear, and Ipromise to try. Of course, they shall have a hearty welcome. She is myson's choice, and I will do my duty." Then, in halting accents, sheadded: "You are your own master here. Forgive me, Raife, if I appearanxious. I love you very dearly, and with all a mother's love. You areall I have left in this world, and I fear for your happiness." Then,smiling, she again added: "I will not remind you that you were always abrave, darling, wayward boy."

  Raife took his mother in his arms and reverently kissed her on theforehead, saying, with a happy laugh: "You dear, darling mother! Neverfear for me. I will not forget that I am a Reymingtoune." As he leftthe room Lady Remington turned to the window and wiped away a tear.

  Raife almost ran down the staircase, and, bursting into the room, calledout cheerily to Hilda and her father: "Come along, good folks, and meetmy dear old mother. She is upstairs and awaits you."

  The close scrutiny of the servants was easy to bear. Hilda's heartfluttered as they climbed the wide old staircase and entered thelibrary. Lady Remington was standing to receive them. Raife started topresent them. "Mother, this is--"

  He did not finish.

  Hilda, with a charming impulse, had crossed the room with both handsextended, exclaiming: "You are Raife's mother. Oh, I'm so glad!"

  The radiance of this beautiful young girl, the charm of her musicalvoice, and the evident spontaneity of the action, were magical. Thestately Lady Remington took the two extended hands and kissed Hilda onboth cheeks, saying: "Welcome, Hilda. I am sure I shall like you, and Ihope you will like me. May you both be very happy."

  Mr Muirhead stood by Raife's side, viewing this unconventional scene,where the newer West had conquered the stiffer conventions of the olderWest by a display of genuine frankness. His handsome face was made themore handsome by the pleased smile that it bore. Raife now presentedhim to his mother with more formality than Hilda had allowed in hercase.

  When Lady Remington and Mr Muirhead had left the room to stroll aroundthe gardens, Hilda exclaimed: "Oh, Raife. This is all very wonderful.I did not believe such places existed outside storybooks. Your motheris a darling. I love her already. I'm glad I don't have to stamp myfoot and shake my fist, as I told you I would in Cairo, if she didn'tlike me."

  Raife kissed her again and again, and through the kisses said: "How doyou know she likes you?"

  Imitating Raife's accents, she said: "Woman's instinct, dear boy,woman's instinct. Besides, she wouldn't have kissed me so hard if shedidn't like me."

  The words were hardly finished when he seized her, exclaiming: "Thatsettles it! Then I'll show you I more than like you, I love you!" Andhe kissed her until she pretended that it hurt.

  Now, at last, were Raife's ideals realised, and complete happiness wasnearly his. There could be no other spectres or phantoms to cast ashadow over their pure love. Hilda broke away and ran to the other sideof the room. The window was open and she looked out, crying: "Oh, docome, Raife, look at that wonderful clump of rhododendrons."

  She did not see it, but a pained expression crossed his face as he cameto the window, and, placing an arm around her, they looked down togetheron the rhododendrons. Why could not happiness last? What was the cursethat at every turn blighted his fondest hopes? The last time he hadlooked on those rhododendrons was on that fateful dark night, when GildaTempest, the burglar--the burglar whom he had fancied that he loved--slid down the silken rope from the window, and disappeared in their darkshadows. And now the hideous memory came to his mind, to destroy hisbrightest hopes, his dream of bliss. He turned away, leaving Hilda atthe window. He stood lighting a cigarette, and again his gaze chancedin a tragic direction. In front of him was the safe, where his fatherhad shot and killed the burglar, and there, the spot where his murderedfather had, in his dying words, stammered out, in choking gulps toEdgson, the awful warning to Raife, his son, to "beware of the trap--she--that woman." Who was that woman and what was the trap? Again,that was the spot where he had nearly shot Gilda Tempest, the secondburglar. Why, oh why, had his mother chosen this room in which toreceive his beloved Hilda--his fiancee?

  Calling to Hilda, he said: "Come, Hilda, let us go downstairs and findyour father. They have gone into the grounds, and won't be far away."

  They went downstairs, she on to the terrace, and he into a morning-room.He ran
g the bell and Edgson, the butler, entered. "Mix me a stiffwhisky and soda, Edgson, please."

  The old man eyed his master quizzically as he handed him the cool drinkin a long, sparkling tumbler. "Aren't you feeling well, Sir Raife?"

  Between gulps, Raife replied: "Oh, yes, Edgson, only a bit tired, thankyou."

  "I hope, Sir Raife, you've had a pleasant holiday, sir. We are all veryglad to see you back again, sir."

  "Thank you, Edgson. Yes, very pleasant indeed."

  Then, with the licence of an old servant of the family, Edgson chattedon: "Pardon the liberty, Sir Raife, but we saw the announcement in the_Morning Post_, sir, Miss Muirhead who has just come to