"So am I. But the invitation was very pressing. However, rather than disappoint the gentleman I sent my representative to receive the honors."
"It was a gentleman who asked you then?"
His eyes opened with surprise.
"Certainly—that is he did not really ask me, you see, but arranged a neat little affair whereby I was to be a guest of honor."
"How stupid of me, to be sure, I begin to see now that you are speaking of a business engagement, not a social matter. And will your substitute serve as well as if you had gone?"
"Just as well, until they learn that it is not Roderic Owen they are entertaining with so lavish a hand, but plain Joel Darby. Then I imagine there will be an explosion of some sort and her ladyship will show temper."
"Her ladyship—then there is a woman involved?"
"It is true. I see, cousin, that having put my foot in it thus far I would do well to tell you the whole story."
"I should be pleased to act as Father Confessor," was the quick response.
They were alone at the table, Miss Becky having gone across the room to chat with a congenial spirit whose acquaintance she had made.
So Roderic told his little story as tersely as he could, and in his cousin he found an interested auditor.
"Well, what do you think of it?" he asked when the finis had been reached.
"It is very dreadful."
"Surely I came out all right, cousin."
"But—suppose you had not—you would have been hypnotized by the adventuress, and that must have been the end of you. Oh! I know the species and all their wiles, having made a study of them."
"Does that sweeping deduction include the male bipeds of the adventurer order also?"
"Why not?"
"Because I might offend if I told you the name of the man who planned my exodus."
"Oh! I have already guessed it was the Adonis."
"Yes, Jerome Wellington. I am glad you know him in his true light. He has made a vow."
"I'll wager it concerns my wretched millions."
"Just so—he longs to handle them."
"He will be a smarter man than he is now when that happens. But one thing puzzles me?"
"Now it is coming," thought Roderic, though aloud he said cheerily, "What might that be?"
"You received your warning from a nun."
"I was a fool to mention the fact," thought Owen, with one of these wonderful after inspirations that closes the door when the horse is stolen.
"Yes, from one who was dressed in the somber garb of a cloister," he replied.
"You evidently do not believe she was what she outwardly appeared?"
"You are a modern Portia, cousin," he laughed.
"Of course, a prisoner at the bar is not pledged to commit himself. If I am over bold forgive me and make no reply. But, you know, a woman's curiosity is proverbial."
"I shall answer frankly—she was no member of the Order of the Holy Grail—the garb was assumed to conceal her identity."
"From Jerome—from you?"
"Both, I presume."
"You recognized her face?"
"I did not see that—it was her voice. Even then I was in a maze until she had gone."
"Was it a very melodious voice, Roderic."
"The sweetest—well, yes, a voice full of melody," he replied, with evident confusion that did not escape Cleo's quick gaze.
"Ah! you have heard her sing?"
"Dozens of times—like a nightingale," he felt forced to confess.
"This was—where?"
"In San Juan, Porto Rico, two years back. I have not looked on her face since I fled those shores."
"Ah!" and that one word expressed keen disappointment, for Cleo read the story of his lost love in his face.
CHAPTER IV.
MILLIONS MAY NOT PURCHASE LOVE.
"Would it be presumptuous if I asked to know her name, Roderic—this girl of San Juan who risked so much to save your reputation if not your life? I feel under obligations to her, for your name is very dear to those who know you—those bound to you by ties of consanguinity."
"She comes of Spanish descent, but her heart is now only wrapped up in the future of the lovely gem of the Antilles. Her name is Georgia Inez de Brabant."
Perhaps his manner gave evidence that she was treading on dangerous ground.
"Thank you. Perhaps some day fortune may bring us together. I shall try to love her, Roderic, because you call her your friend!"
Then she branched off upon the subject of the cruise, to which she seemed to look forward with almost childish delight.
It is not every one to whom is given the proud fortune to own a modern steam yacht, and this daughter of Eve could be forgiven a fair amount of exhilaration under the circumstances.
Perhaps, truth to tell, the prospect of ten days basking in the company of her athletic cousin had something to do with her light spirits.
Owen's time was not wholly his own, so that he was soon forced to sally forth upon the streets of the Irish metropolis.
When Cleo was alone she hastened to her luxurious apartments and searching the inmost recesses of an inlaid traveling writing desk which had been taken from a capacious trunk, she soon pounced upon a small photograph.
It was wretchedly done by a tyro in Ponce, but even boorish work could not entirely conceal the fact that the face was that of a most lovely dark-eyed houri.
Cleo looked eagerly at it.
"I have had this now two years. Roderic dropped it in the garden, and I hid it away for a joke and then forgot to speak of it. This is the picture of a daughter of Porto Rico—is it the same who is now in Dublin, who last night at the peril of her name warned him of evil? I have reason to believe such to be the truth, for unless I am greatly mistaken I saw this same beauty coming out of St. Patrick's cathedral yesterday morning, when a gust of wind blew her veil aside. In this land where Irish gray or blue eyes abound I was immediately attracted by such a beautiful pair of melting dusky orbs.
"Heigho! this is Roderic's fate no doubt. Heaven grant that he may be happy whate'er betide, for he deserves it. I would give all my miserable millions for his heart's love, but it can not be. There is a startling story of the past connected with this girl, I am sure. Why did they separate—does she love him still? Well, perhaps the future may tell."
She put the photograph slowly back in the lodging place where it had so long rested securely. Even great riches had not the power to bring this young woman unalloyed happiness, for the one treasure she would have valued above all other earthly possessions seemed denied her by a cruel fate.
It were hardly fair that all the joys of earth were handed over to the disposal of one mortal.
While she rolled in wealth beyond Aladdin's dreams and sighed for true love, many who were blessed in this regard struggled for a daily pittance and groaned because their heart's devotion could not come between the object of their worship and cruel Want.
Truly, this is a queer old world, and at times it seems unequally divided; but occasionally