ELEANOR tiptoed over to the bed. At last Cynthia had dropped asleep. It seemed hours since Lane’s call for help had taken her into the drawing-room, where she found Cynthia stretched upon the floor and the young officer bending over her. Dr. , who fortunately resided next door but one, had been sent for, and, on his arrival in hot haste, Cynthia had been revived and carried to her room. Cynthia had shown a sudden aversion to having Annette about, so Eleanor had sent the maid to bed, and since ten o’clock had been sitting with Cynthia, trying to quiet her.
Eleanor glanced about the room. There was nothing more she could do, and, stretching herself wearily, she arranged the night light so that it would not shine in Cynthia’s eyes, and placed an old-fashioned bell on the small table by the bed, so that if Cynthia needed assistance she could ring for aid. Then, moving softly for fear of waking the , she stole across the room, turned out the gas, and, stepping into the hall, closed the door gently after her.
Some time later she was busy undressing in her own room when a faint knock disturbed her. On opening the door she found Mrs. Truxton in the hall with a quilted wrapper tight around her portly figure.
“I thought you hadn’t gone to bed,” she remarked in a sibilant whisper which was more than an ordinary low-pitched voice. “I just could not go to bed”—selecting a large oak rocker—“until I had some explanation of this extraordinary affair. Will you please inform me what made that poor girl faint in the drawing-room?”
“She is in a very nervous, excitable condition, Cousin Kate, which reacts on her heart action.” Eleanor glanced despairingly at Mrs. Truxton. She knew the latter was an , though , gossip. she had come to stay for some time, as she sat rocking gently to and fro, her curl papers making a formidable halo around her soft gray hair.
“Heart action?” echoed Mrs. Truxton. “That’s as it may be. What was Captain Lane doing here?”
Eleanor started violently. She particularly wanted to keep the fact that Cynthia and Lane had been together a secret. She had watched for his arrival, and had let him in before he had an opportunity to ring the front door bell, and had shown him at once into the drawing-room. During their interview she had mounted guard in the hall. Hearing Lane’s call for assistance, she had opened the drawing-room door, and, before summoning her uncle and the servants, had advised Lane to leave the house. She supposed he had followed her advice.
“Where in the world did you see him?” she asked.
“So he was here!” Mrs. Truxton smiled delightedly, while Eleanor flushed with vexation as she realized she had given herself away unnecessarily. “Your uncle and Douglas were discussing politics, and I slipped away to remind Nicodemus to put some sandwiches in my room, as I always want a late supper, particularly after so early a dinner. When I walked through the billiard room on my way to the library I happened to glance through the door leading into the hall, and was surprised to see a man standing by the hatrack. As he raised his head I thought I recognized Fred Lane—I wasn’t quite sure, though, but before I could call his name he had vanished.”
“I see.” Eleanor came to a quick resolution. “You have probably heard, Cousin Kate,” sitting down on the edge of her bed nearest the older woman, “that Fred Lane is very much in love with Cynthia.” Mrs. Truxton nodded her head vigorously. “Eventually, after he had paid her a great deal of attention, they became engaged. Unfortunately”—Eleanor was feeling her way with care—“unfortunately they had a lover’s quarrel. Cynthia refused to see Fred, and he finally came to me and asked me to arrange an interview, saying that he felt convinced, if given the opportunity, he could straighten out their misunderstanding.”
Mrs. Truxton pondered some moments in silence. “Did this lover’s quarrel take place before Senator Carew’s death?” she asked.
“Yes.” Eleanor’s blue eyes did not waver before Mrs. Truxton’s piercing look. “Why?”
“I was just thinking that, if Senator Carew had known of an engagement between a member of his family and a Lane, he’d have died of apoplexy—instead of having to be stabbed to death.”
“What was the exact trouble between Senator Carew and Governor Lane, Cousin Kate?” asked Eleanor. “I never have heard.”
“It began years ago.” Mrs. Truxton her chair close to the bed. “Governor Lane was an intimate friend of Philip Winthrop, Sr., and, after the latter’s marriage to Charlotte Carew, came frequently to Washington to visit them. To my thinking, Philip Winthrop was a bad egg, and handsome; and he took in the Carews completely, as well as Governor Lane. He was a stock in Wall Street, and during a panic was ruined financially. He committed suicide.”
“Oh, poor Mrs. Winthrop!” exclaimed Eleanor warmly. “What hasn’t she been through!”
“Well, losing her of a husband was the least one of her troubles,” said Mrs. Truxton dryly. “Philip Winthrop’s failure was not an honorable one; there was talk of criminal , but all that was put a stop to by Senator Carew stepping forward and paying his .” She paused for breath.
“I don’t see what Governor Lane has to do with it,” objected Eleanor, glancing meaningly at the clock, which was just striking one o’clock. She a yawn.
“I am coming to that,” explained Mrs. Truxton. “Philip Winthrop appealed to Governor Lane, among other of his old friends, to loan him money to tide over the financial crisis, and the Governor trusted him to the extent of ten thousand dollars.”
“That was exceedingly generous of him.”
“Yes, and I reckon he of his many times.” Mrs. Truxton with emphasis. “He loaned it to Winthrop without taking security and without knowing that the latter was on the point of absolute failure. And this is where the row comes in. Lane went to Carew and told him of the transaction, showed him the canceled check, and the latter, on finding that Lane had no promissory note or other security, declined to pay off the indebtedness.”
“I see.” Eleanor was paying full attention to the older woman.
“Lane was naturally , for Carew had assumed all the other obligations, and he felt that his was a prior claim, being a debt of honor between friends. Carew didn’t see it that way, and it led to a bitter quarrel. The ill feeling between the two men was on Governor Lane’s part because he met with financial reverses later, and the old Maryland homestead, which might have been saved by the return of the ten thousand dollars, was sold under the hammer.”
“This is all news to me. I was only told they were political enemies.”
“They were. Lane to get even in every way in his power, and so entered politics. He was a man of great force of character and intellectual ability—although lacking in business sense,” she interpolated, “and a born . And when he found, after holding several important state positions, that Senator Carew was going to run for governor of Maryland, he entered the field against him, and Carew was beaten by a few votes only.”
“When did this happen?”
“Oh, back in the early nineties. The quarrel was most , particularly on Carew’s side. He must have realized that he had not acted fairly to his old friend. As long as he had assumed Winthrop’s debts it seemed only right that he should return the money owing to Lane. Public opinion was with the latter.”
“Perhaps at that time he may not have had the ten thousand,” suggested Eleanor. “I have always heard and believed the Senator an honorable man;and certainly it was good of him to shoulder any of his brother-in-law’s debts.”
“He only did it to protect his sister, who was left penniless, and quiet scandal.”
“Mrs. Winthrop penniless! Why, how comes it, Cousin Kate, that she lives as she does.”
“Senator Carew gave her a large allowance. He always said that Cynthia should inherit his fortune.”
“I never knew until the other day that Philip Winthrop was not Mrs. Winthrop’s son.”
“She adopted him legally, I believe, at the time of her husband’s death, and persuaded her brother, the Senator, to have him brought up as one of the family. Philip Winthrop’s first wife was a South American, I am told. I never saw her, as she died before he came to Washington. Mercy on us!” glancing at the clock, “I had no idea it was so late.” She rose and started for the door. “How did you leave Cynthia?”
“Sound asleep, thank Heaven!”
“Did she and Fred Lane patch up their quarrel?”
“I am afraid not.” Eleanor kissed her cousin a warm good night, and wat............