This man had confronted many problems as the years had passed.He had seen men like himself die, leaving behind them the force they had controlled, and he had seen this force--controlled no longer--let loose upon the world, sometimes a power of evil, sometimes scattering itself aimlessly into nothingness and folly, which wrought harm.He was not an ambitious man, but--perhaps because he was not only a man of thought, but a Vanderpoel of the blood of the first Reuben--these were things he did not contemplate without restlessness.When Rosy had gone away and seemed lost to them, he had been glad when he had seen Betty growing, day by day, into a strong thing.Feminine though she was, she sometimes suggested to him the son who might have been his, but was not.As the closeness of their companionship increased with her years, his admiration for her grew with his love.Power left in her hands must work for the advancement of things, and would not be idly disseminated--if no antagonistic influence wrought against her.He had found himself reflecting that, after all was said, the marriage of such a girl had a sort of parallel in that of some young royal creature, whose union might make or mar things, which must be considered.The man who must inevitably strongly colour her whole being, and vitally mark her life, would, in a sense, lay his hand upon the lever also.
If he brought sorrow and disorder with him, the lever would not move steadily.Fortunes such as his grow rapidly, and he was a richer man by millions than he had been when Rosalie had married Nigel Anstruthers.The memory of that marriage had been a painful thing to him, even before he had known the whole truth of its results.The man had been a common adventurer and scoundrel, despite the facts of good birth and the air of decent breeding.If a man who was as much a scoundrel, but cleverer--it would be necessary that he should be much cleverer--made the best of himself to Betty----! It was folly to think one could guess what a woman--or a man, either, for that matter--would love.He knew Betty, but no man knows the thing which comes, as it were, in the dark and claims its own--whether for good or evil.He had lived long enough to see beautiful, strong-spirited creatures do strange things, follow strange gods, swept away into seas of pain by strange waves.
"Even Betty," he had said to himself, now and then."Even my Betty.Good God--who knows! "Because of this, he had read each letter with keen eyes.
They were long letters, full of detail and colour, because she knew he enjoyed them.She had a delightful touch.He sometimes felt as if they walked the English lanes together.
His intimacy with her neighbours, and her neighbourhood, was one of his relaxations.He found himself thinking of old Doby and Mrs.Welden, as a sort of soporific measure, when he lay awake at night.She had sent photographs of Stornham, of Dunholm Castle, and of Dole, and had even found an old engraving of Lady Alanby in her youth.Her evident liking for the Dunholms had pleased him.They were people whose dignity and admirableness were part of general knowledge.Lord Westholt was plainly a young man of many attractions.If the two were drawn to each other--and what more natural--all would be well.He wondered if it would be Westholt.But his love quickened a sagacity which needed no stimulus.He said to himself in time that, though she liked and admired Westholt, she went no farther.That others paid court to her he could guess without being told.He had seen the effect she had produced when she had been at home, and also an unexpected letter to his wife from Milly Bowen had revealed many things.Milly, having noted Mrs.Vanderpoel's eager anxiety to hear direct news of Lady Anstruthers, was not the person to let fall from her hand a useful thread of connection.She had written quite at length, managing adroitly to convey all that she had seen, and all that she had heard.She had been making a visit within driving distance of Stornham, and had had the pleasure of meeting both Lady Anstruthers and Miss Vanderpoel at various parties.
She was so sure that Mrs.Vanderpoel would like to hear how well Lady Anstruthers was looking, that she ventured to write.Betty's effect upon the county was made quite clear, as also was the interested expectation of her appearance in town next season.Mr.Vanderpoel, perhaps, gathered more from the letter than his wife did.In her mind, relieved happiness and consternation were mingled.
"Do you think, Reuben, that Betty will marry that Lord Westholt?" she rather faltered."He seems very nice, but I would rather she married an American.I should feel as if I had no girls at all, if they both lived in England.""Lady Bowen gives him a good character," her husband said, smiling."But if anything untoward happens, Annie, you shall have a house of your own half way between Dunholm Castle and Stornham Court."When he had begun to decide that Lord Westholt did not seem to be the man Fate was veering towards, he not unnaturally cast a mental eye over such other persons as the letters mentioned.At exactly what period his thought first dwelt a shade anxiously on Mount Dunstan he could not have told, but he at length became conscious that it so dwelt.
He had begun by feeling an interest in his story, and had asked questions about him, because a situation such as his suggested query to a man of affairs.Thus, it had been natural that the letters should speak of him.What she had written had recalled to him certain rumours of the disgraceful old scandal.
