The Castle of the Shadows | Page 9

myself a friend. I admired him,
certainly Max Dalahaide was the handsomest, wittiest, most fascinating
fellow I ever met. Neither man nor woman could resist him, if he set
out to conquer. Loria and he were like brothers; yet Loria thought with
the rest of the world. He can't be blamed for disloyalty, either, for really
there was nothing else to think, if one used one's reason."
"If he had been my friend, I would not have used my reason!"
exclaimed Virginia. "What is the use of reason, when one has

instinct?--and that is never wrong. But it is good of you to defend the
Marchese, for I know you don't like him."
"Don't I?" echoed Roger. "If I don't, I'm afraid it is because you do.
You won't have me, dear; you've told me that, and I don't mean to
bother you again; but I'm weak enough to be jealous when I think
there's danger of your saying 'Yes' to anybody else."
"I don't know that there is any such danger in this case," said Virginia.
"But the Marchese is very handsome, and rather romantic, and he sings
like an angel. Oh, yes, I am almost in love with him when he sings--or I
was till yesterday. And how he dances! It's poetry. When I am waltzing
with the Marchese Loria I invariably make up my mind that I will
accept him next time he asks. Then, afterward, something holds me
back. To-day, in that valley of shadows, he affected me quite
differently. It was as if--as if the shadows had shut down between us. I
saw him in the shadow, his features changed--repellent. As the French
say, he 'made me horror.' Yet I didn't know why. Now I begin to
understand. It was my precious instinct warning me, saying: 'This man
is disloyal. Don't trust him.'"
"You are unjust," said Roger. "I should like to let you misjudge him,
but I can't be a bounder, you know. He really behaved extremely well
in the Dalahaide affair. The man couldn't believe, against a mountain of
evidence; nevertheless, he did what he could for his friend, guilty as he
thought him. All this happened four years ago, when you were a
demure little schoolgirl--if you ever could have been demure!--in your
own Virginia, not allowed even to hear of, much less read, the great
newspaper scandals of the moment. I can't remember every detail of the
affair, but it was said to be largely through Loria's efforts that Max was
saved from capital punishment for his crime."
"You haven't told me yet what that crime was."
"Yes. I have said it was murder."
"Ah! but that is only a crude statement. I ask for the story."

"You won't have it from me, my child," answered Roger coolly. "I'm
not a sensation-monger. It was a horrid affair, and one doesn't talk of
such things to little girls. You know all from me that you will know.
Buy your château, if you choose. You've money enough to squander on
twenty such toys and not miss it. No doubt poor Madeleine Dalahaide
will be benefited by the exchange--her castle for your money. Fortunate
for her, perhaps, that she is the last of the French Dalahaides, and has
the right to sell the château."
"You will tell me nothing more?"
"Nothing."
"Then I will tell you one thing. I believe that the man was innocent. I
have seen his portrait. I have seen his sister. That is enough for me. But
what you will not tell me I shall learn for myself, and then--and
then--you shall see what you shall see."
* * * * *
Virginia slept restlessly that night. In her dreams she was always in the
Valley of the Shadow, striving to find her way out into the sunlight;
and sometimes the valley seemed but the entrance to that bottomless pit
of shame where Maxime Dalahaide was entombed. She awoke from a
dream forgotten, in a spasm of cold fear, before it was dawn, and
switching on the electric light near the bed, she drew her watch from
under the pillow. It was just six o'clock; and for a few moments
Virginia lay still, thinking over the events of yesterday. After all, what
did they mean for her? Nothing, said Reason; everything, said a Voice
to which she could give no name.
Suddenly her heart began to beat quickly with the excitement of a
strange thought that seemed to spring out of herself, and then turn to
face her. It pushed the girl from her bed, and she rose, shivering; for
even here at Cap Martin it was cold in the early morning before the
vivid sun had warmed the air.
She was used to lying in bed until a fire of fragrant