The Castle of the Shadows | Page 3

were joined by her cousin, Sir Roger Broom, who had been riding behind with her half-brother, George Trent, and Lady Gardiner.
"Look here, Loria," he exclaimed, with a certain excitement underlying his tone; "it has just occurred to me that this is--er--the place that's been nicknamed for the last few years the 'Valley of the Shadow.'"
"You are right," answered Loria. "That is why I didn't wish to come in."
Sir Roger nodded toward the chateau, which now loomed over them, gray, desolate, one half in ruins, yet picturesquely beautiful both in position and architecture. "Then that is----" he began, but the Italian cut him short.
"Yes. And won't you help me persuade Miss Beverly that we've seen enough of this valley now?"
"Why, the castle's for sale!" cried Virginia suddenly, before Roger Broom had had time to speak.
She pointed to one of the tall gate-posts at the foot of the hill, close to the road, which showed a notice-board announcing in both French and Italian that the Chateau de la Roche was to be sold, permission to view being obtainable within.
"Poor people; they must have been reduced to sad straits indeed!" murmured Sir Roger, looking at the board with its faded lettering, half defaced by time and weather.
"Yes, it was all very unfortunate, very miserable," Loria said hastily. "Shall we go back?"
The Englishman seemed hardly to hear. "I'd seen photographs of the valley, but I'd quite forgotten, until suddenly it began to look familiar. Then, all in a flash, I remembered."
"What do you remember; and why do you call this the Valley of the Shadow?" demanded Virginia. "You are both very mysterious. But perhaps it's the influence of the place. Everything seems mysterious here."
Roger Broom sighed, and roused himself with an effort from his reverie. "Queer that we should have drifted here by accident," he said--"especially with you, Loria."
"Why especially with me?" the other asked with a certain sharpness.
"You were the poor fellow's friend. Oh, Virginia, forgive me for not answering you. This place is reminiscent of tragedy. A man whom I used to know slightly, and Loria intimately, lived here. That grim old house perched up on the hillside has been the home of his ancestors for hundreds of years. Now, you see, it is for sale. But it's likely to remain so. Who would buy it?"
"Why not?" asked Virginia. "Is it haunted?"
"Only by melancholy thoughts of a family ruined, a man cut off from life at its best and brightest, to be sent into exile worse than death. By the way, Loria, do you know what became of the sister?"
"I have heard that she still lives here with an aunt and one old 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 chateau."
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 chateau," 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