The Castle Of The Shadows

								

servant," answered the Italian, his face gray-white in the greenish dusk
of the olive woods.
"Is it possible? What a life for a girl! I suppose that there is
absolutely not money enough to keep up another establishment, no matter
how small. Why, were there no relatives--no one to help?"
"The relatives all believed in her brother's guilt, and she would have
nothing to do with them. As for help, her family is a difficult one to
help. Of course it would be a good thing for her to sell the château."
Virginia sat her horse between the two others, impatient and curious. It
was easy to see how distasteful the conversation was to the Marchese
Loria. He answered Sir Roger's questions only by an effort; and as for
her cousin, even he was moved out of the imperturbable sang-froid which
sometimes pleased, sometimes irritated Virginia, according to her mood.
"Was it because of this young man's guilt that the place was called the
Valley of the Shadow?" she asked again.
"Yes. A mere nickname, of course, though an ominous one," said Roger.
"You see, the Dalahaides used to keep open house, and spend a great deal
of money at one time, so that their ruin threw a gloom over the country
even colder than the evening shadows. The father took his own life in
shame and despair, the mother died of grief, and only a girl is left of
the four who used to be so happy together."
"But what of the fourth--the brother?" In spite of herself, Virginia's
voice sank, and the penetrating chill of the valley crept into her
spirit.
"He is worse than dead," answered Roger evasively. "By Jove! Loria is
right. It is cold here. Let us turn back."
"I should like to buy that château," announced the American girl, as
calmly as if she had spoken of acquiring a new brooch.
"Good gracious! What next?" exclaimed Sir Roger. "But you're not in
earnest, of course."
"I am in earnest," said she. "I should love to have it. It's an ideal
house, set on that great rocky hill, and ringed round with olive groves.
Though the sun is gone so soon from the bottom of the valley, where we
are, the château windows are still bright. The place fascinates me. I am
going to ride in and ask to see the house. Who will come with me?"
Virginia looked at the Marchese with a half-smiling challenge; but he did
not speak, and Lady Gardiner's black eye gave out a flash. She was as
poor as she was handsome and well-born, and her life as the American
girl's chaperon was an easy one. The thought that Virginia Beverly might
make up her mind to become the Marchesa Loria was disagreeable to Kate
Gardiner, and she was glad that the Italian should displease the spoilt
beauty.
"I'll go with you, dear, if you are really bent on the adventure," said
the elder woman.
"Forgive me, Miss Beverly. But I--once knew these people. I could not go
into their house on such an errand. They would think I had come to spy on
their misfortune," protested Loria miserably.