Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 24

As the fly rumbled over the unkept streets toward the station, past the few tame shops and the dead-and-alive hotel, her color came and went in rapid fluctuations.

"Is--is this the world?" she asked, in a low voice.

Mrs. Davenant looked at her with a smile, the first which Una had seen on the thin, pale face. She had yet to learn that Mrs. Davenant never smiled in her son's presence.

"The world, my dear?" she replied. "Well, yes; but a very quiet part of it."

"And yet there are so many people in the streets, and--ah!" she drew back with an exclamation as the train shrieked into the station.

Mrs. Davenant started--she was nervous herself, and had not yet realized that she had for companion one who was as ignorant of our modern high-pressure civilization as a North American Indian.

"That is the train; don't be frightened, my dear," she said.

"Forgive me. I know it is the train--I have read about it. I am not frightened," she added, quietly, and with a touch of gentle dignity that puzzled Mrs. Davenant.

"My dear," she said, "I am not finding fault, or chiding you, it is only natural that you should be surprised, but you will find a great deal more to be surprised at when we get to London."

Una inclined her head as she mentally registered a resolution to conceal, at any cost, any surprise or alarm she might feel on the rest of the journey.

Nevertheless, she kept very close to Mrs. Davenant as they pa.s.sed to the train, and shrank back into the corner of the carriage driven there by the stupid stare of one or two of the pa.s.sengers.

"Now we are all right," said Mrs. Davenant, gently. "We shall not sleep now till we get to town."

"To London--we are going to London?" asked Una in a low voice.

"Yes," said Mrs. Davenant. "That is where I live; I live in a great square at the West-end."

"I know the points of the compa.s.s," said Una, with a smile; "my father taught me," and she sighed--"poor father!"

"I think your father must be a very clever man, my dear. He appears to have taught you a great deal--I mean"--she hesitated--"you speak so correctly."

"Do I?" said Una. "Yes, my father is very clever. He knows everything."

"It is very curious," she said. "I mean--I hope you won't be offended--but men in his position are not generally so well informed."

"Are they not?" said Una, quietly. "I don't know. Perhaps my father learned all he knows from books."

"And taught you in the same way. Tell me what books you have read."

Una smiled softly, and as she did so, Mrs. Davenant started, and looked around at her with something like fright in her grave, still eyes.

"What is the matter?" asked Una.

"No--nothing," replied the other. "I--you reminded me of somebody when you laughed, I can't tell whom. But the books, you were going to tell me about the books."

"I can't remember all," said Una, and then she mentioned the t.i.tles of some of the well-bound volumes which stood on the little bookshelf in the hut.

Mrs. Davenant regarded her curiously.

"Those are all books of a world that existed long ago," she said. "You have never read any novels--any novels of present day life?"

"No, I think not."

"Then you are absolutely ignorant of life as it is," said Mrs. Davenant.

"Yes, I suppose so," a.s.sented Una.

"I can understand now how useful fiction really is," murmured Mrs.

Davenant. "It is by it alone that a future age will understand what ours is. You are entering upon some strange experiences, Miss Rolfe."

Una started; the name was so unfamiliar to her that she hardly recognized it.

"Please don't call me that," she said, laying her hand on Mrs.

Davenant's arm. "My name is Eunice--Una. Call me Una."

"I will," said Mrs. Davenant.

"You have promised to love me, you know."

"A promise easy to keep, my dear," she said, and her eyes grew moist. "I little thought when my son Stephen telegraphed to meet him that he was taking me to a daughter."

"Your son Stephen--he sent for you!" said Una, with frank curiosity.

"How did he know of my existence?"

"Through some friend," said Mrs. Davenant, with much hesitation and nervous embarra.s.sment. "My son is a very good man, and always interesting himself in some good cause or other--something that will benefit his fellow creatures. You--you will like my son when you know more of him," she added, and though she spoke with pride there was a touch of something like fear in her voice, which always came when she mentioned his name or spoke of his goodness.

"Yes," said Una, simply, "I will for your sake."

"Thank you, my dear," murmured Mrs. Davenant.

"But how," went on Una, after thinking a moment, "how did his friend know anything about me? Did my father----"

"I don't know, Una," said Mrs. Davenant, nervously. "Stephen doesn't always tell me everything; you see he has so much to think of, and just now he is in great trouble, you know."

"Ah! yes," said Una, gently; "and he had not time to tell you. But he will. I am sorry he is in such trouble." Then, after a pause, she said: "Are you rich?"

Mrs. Davenant started. The question, so unusual and so strange, bewildered her by its suddenness and its frankness.

"Rich, my dear?" she said. "Yes--I suppose I am rich."

"And he is rich?"

"He will be, perhaps; we do not know until his uncle's will is read."

"I know what a will is," said Una, with a smile. "It is the paper which a man leaves when he dies, saying to whom he wishes his money to go. And Stephen----"

"You should say Mr. Stephen, or Mr. Davenant, my dear," she said. "I don't mind your calling him Stephen, but--but----" She looked round in despair. How was she to explain to this frank, beautiful girl the laws of etiquette? "But everyone who speaks of those to whom they are not related say Mr., or Mrs., or Miss."

"I see," said Una. "Then Mr. Davenant expects to get his uncle's money, and then he will be rich. I am very glad. And he does not live in the same house with you?"