The Castle of the Shadows | Page 3

up with her again.
"One of the greatest sorrows of my life is connected with this valley,"
he answered desperately. "Now will you take pity upon me and turn
round?"
Virginia hesitated. The man's voice shook. She did not know whether
to yield or to feel contempt because he showed emotion so much more
readily than her English and American friends. But while she hesitated
they 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 château, 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 Château 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 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