Part 8 (1/2)

”That is strange,” mused the Colonel. ”I once saw a landscape by Jason Jones that was considered a fine conception, skillfully executed. That was the opinion of so good a judge as Captain Seaver himself.

Therefore, for some reason the man's genius must have forsaken him.”

”I think that is true,” agreed Alora, ”for my mother's estimate of art was undoubtedly correct. I have read somewhere that discouragement sometimes destroys one's talent, though in after years, with proper impulse, it may return with added strength. In my father's case,” she explained, ”he was not able to sell his work--and no wonder. So now he does nothing at all but read, and even that doesn't seem to amuse him much.”

The Colonel had now remembered that Antoinette Seaver Jones was a woman of great wealth, and therefore her daughter must be an heiress. What a shame to keep the girl hidden in this out-of-the-way place, when she should be preparing to a.s.sume an important position in the world.

”May I ask your age, my dear?” he said.

”I am fifteen, sir,” replied Alora.

”And your father is the guardian of your fortune?”

”Yes; by my mother's wish.”

”I suppose you are receiving proper instruction?”

”None at all, sir. Since I have been in my father's care I have had no instruction whatever. That isn't right, is it?”

”What isn't right?” demanded a gruff voice, and all three turned to find Jason Jones standing in the doorway.

CHAPTER IX MARY LOUISE SCENTS A MYSTERY

Colonel Hathaway instantly rose.

”I beg your pardon,” said he. ”I am Colonel James Hathaway, an American, and this is my granddaughter, Mary Louise Burrows. Our carriage met with an accident on the main road below and we wandered in here while waiting for repairs and chanced to meet your daughter. You are Mr. Jones, I believe?”

He nodded, still standing in his place and regarding his visitors with unconcealed suspicion. Under his arm he held several books.

”Who informed you that I was living here?” he demanded.

”I was wholly unaware of the fact,” said the Colonel, stiffly. ”I did not know you were in Italy. I did not know such an important person existed, strange to say, although I can remember that an artist named Jason Jones once married Antoinette Seaver, the daughter of my old friend Captain Robert Seaver.”

”Oh, you remember that, do you?”

”This is the first time I have had the distinguished honor of meeting you, sir, and I trust it will be the last time.”

”That's all right,” said Jason Jones, more cordially. ”I can't see that it's any of my affair, either way.”

”We have been making the acquaintance of Tony Seaver's daughter, Miss Alora Jones, in your absence. But we will not intrude farther, Mr.

Jones. Come, Mary Louise.”

”Oh, don't go!” pleaded Alora, catching Mary Louise's arm. And just then Leona entered with the tea and biscuits.

”Sit down, man,” said Jason Jones in a less aggressive tone. ”I've no objection to your coming here, under the circ.u.mstances, and you are our first visitors in three years. That's often enough, but now that you are here, make yourself at home. What's happening over in America? Have you been there lately?”

He laid his books on a table and sat down. But after that one speech, which he perhaps considered conciliatory, he remained glum and allowed the others to do the talking.