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Trevlyn Chase was a fine Tudor structure, standing on the site of the more ancient castle that had been destroyed during the tumultuous days of the Wars of the Roses.
"You may well ask God to forgive you," he said. "You deserve the depths of perdition for harboring in your heart a thought against the purity of that woman. Archer Trevlyn, had she loved me as she did you, I would have cut off my right hand before I would have entertained a suspicion of sin in her!
After that, people who knew Mr. Trevlyn said that he grew more fretful and disagreeable. His hair was bleached white as the snow, his hands shook, and his erect frame was bowed and bent like that of a very aged man. His wife, Hubert's mother, pined away to a mere shadow, and before the lapse of a year she was a hopeless idiot.
A thrill of unexplained dread ran through her frame as she touched the silver-handled bell. The servant who answered her summons seemed to partake of the strange, solemn quiet pervading everything. "Is Mr. Trevlyn in?" she asked, trembling in spite of herself. "I believe Mr. Trevlyn has left the country, madam." "Left the country? When did he go?" "Some days ago."
Fixing his dark eyes full upon the face of the man opposite, he asked: "And what is that price?" "The secret of the Trevlyn treasure," was the calm reply "the secret thou didst learn from Long Robin ere thou didst lay him in his bloody grave, and which now thou holdest alone. Where is the treasure, boy? Speak, and all will be well.
Nevertheless, if thou wast to put thy sister beneath their care, I trow they would receive her with kindness and treat her well, and she would scarce regret the Gate House were the captivity never so hard. Nor would Nicholas Trevlyn be like to seek her there, though at the Chase he would find her at once, were we to strive to aid her flight as we aided thine."
"Then, in heaven's name, who are you?" she cried, tearing herself from his arms. "Your lover, dear!" "Who, then, is the heir?" demanded Lady Trevlyn, springing up, as Lillian turned to seek shelter with her mother. "I am." Helen spoke, and Helen stood on the threshold of the door, with a hard, haughty look upon her beautiful face. "You told your story badly, Paul," she said, in a bitter tone.
It came upon me as I sat in pain and darkness, the last hour I passed beneath my father's roof, that this might be the work given to me to do to restore to the house of Trevlyn the treasure whose loss has been so sore a blow.
"Us who may that plural pronoun embody?" "Myself and Mr. Trevlyn." "Ah! thank you. Mr. Trevlyn may not care for an addition to his nice little arrangement for a tête-
Trevlyn had been smitten with paralysis. He was in no immediate danger, perhaps; he might live for years, but was liable to drop away at any moment. It was simply a question of time. Toward the close of the second day after his attack, the power of speech returned to Mr. Trevlyn. "Margie!" he said, feebly, "Margie, come here." She flew to his side.