CHAPTER XL.
Molly had determined to go to the Truehearts, tell them her whole sad history, and ask them to love her for her father’s sake.
“They can not turn me away, they are too fond of me already,” she said, hopefully to herself. “If they will only hide me from my enemies I shall love them and be grateful to them forever.”
She had begun to look on Cecil as her enemy now, as one who wished for her death that he might marry his new love.
“But they shall not kill me. I shall die soon enough of my broken heart anyhow,” she said sadly.
She would not take a cab, weak as she was, for she wanted to make it impossible for any one to trace her, so she walked wearily and slowly along over the full mile that intervened between The Acacias and the elegant mansion of the Truehearts.
For a wonder no rough or rowdy molested the small, veiled female figure as it plodded along. Perhaps it was because every one but Molly herself saw that she was guarded by another woman who kept just a little behind the other and always in the shadow.
It was Florine Dabol, bent on finding out all about the mysterious friends at whom Molly had vaguely hinted.
“It may be worth my while to know where she is all the time when they are hunting her high and low!” she cleverly thought.
She was amazed and confounded when she saw hermistress ascend the stone steps of a splendid mansion, more and more amazed when she saw her after ringing the bell and waiting but a few moments, disappear within the stately door.
“Well, she’s got fine friends anyhow,” said Florine. She ascended the steps and read the name upon the door-plate.
“Sir Edward Trueheart, upon my word,” she ejaculated.
She waited a while in the shadow of the steps to see if her mistress would come forth again, but seeing that she did not, took her way hastily back to The Acacias and went in by the servants’ entrance, the key of which she had carried when she went out. As she did so the clock in the hall chimed the midnight hour.
“I will run up to her room and see if she has left him a note,” she said.
To her amazement, as she entered the dimly lighted upper hall, she encountered Cecil Laurens, who had just let himself in with his latch-key. He looked haggard and wretched in the dim light.
“Florine!” he exclaimed, in surprise, at sight of the cloaked and bonneted figure.
“Yes, sir. I have been to the theater. My mistress gave me this evening out,” answered the artful maid, thinking that she could turn this seemingly awkwardcontretempsto good account.
He hesitated a moment, then asked, eagerly:
“Do you think that Mrs. Laurens is awake yet, Florine?”
“I expect so, sir. She does not sleep well at night for fretting and crying.”
The words struck his heart with pain and reproach.
“‘Fretting and crying,’ and no one to comfort her,poor child!” he thought, and held up his hand. “Wait,” he said.
He drew pencil and paper from his pocket, and wrote rapidly some words that had been burning his heart all day:
“My darling wife, forgive me for that cruel letter. My love has conquered pride, anger and resentment. Let us throw the past behind us, and begin life anew. May I come to you and hear the story I once refused to listen to from you?Your Own Cecil.”
“My darling wife, forgive me for that cruel letter. My love has conquered pride, anger and resentment. Let us throw the past behind us, and begin life anew. May I come to you and hear the story I once refused to listen to from you?
Your Own Cecil.”
He folded the note hurriedly across and put it into Florine’s hand with a gold piece.
“That’s for your kindness to my wife, my good girl,” he said. “Now, if she is awake, give her the note at once. If she is asleep, let her have it as soon as she awakens. I shall wait here a few minutes to hear from you.”
Florine courtesied low, took the note and disappeared in a moment inside that door on which Cecil’s wistful eyes were eagerly fastened. Then she thrust the note into her pocket and looked eagerly around the room.
“Ah!” she exclaimed.
There was a note, as she had expected—a note not even sealed.
It lay upon a little table at the head of the bed where Florine usually placed the glass of water Molly drank at night.
Florine read the brief note hastily and without compunction.
Then she put it back upon the table and opened the door, beckoning excitedly to Cecil, who was waiting at the stair-way.
He came hurriedly, believing that Molly had summoned him, eager, like himself, for a reconciliation.
He stepped quickly across the threshold, and Florine panted, wildly:
“Ah, monsieur! what does it mean? She—my mistress—is not here!”
She ran into the dressing-room and bath-room and back again, followed by Cecil, startled and anxious.
“Ma foi, I have feared this—that she would run away!” Florine muttered, just loud enough for him to overhear.
He turned on her fiercely.
“Woman, you must be mad! She can not have left the house. Go and seek her at once.”
But at that moment his eyes fell on the note.
He snatched it up hurriedly and read:
“Mr. Laurens,—You have said that you would read nothing from me, but doubtless you will make an exception of this welcome note that tells you that I have gone away out of your path forever.“I have learned that I am to be sent to your home in America next week, while you remain behind to enjoy the companionship of the wicked woman you love. The ostensible reason is that my child may be born at Maple Shade. I prefer to go to my own friends, where the blessing that is coming into my blighted life may come into the world under the same English skies where my forefathers first saw the light. If I stayed with you, you would hate both me and the little one, so we will go where we shall be sure of a little love and kindness.“Farewell—a long farewell.Molly.”
“Mr. Laurens,—You have said that you would read nothing from me, but doubtless you will make an exception of this welcome note that tells you that I have gone away out of your path forever.
“I have learned that I am to be sent to your home in America next week, while you remain behind to enjoy the companionship of the wicked woman you love. The ostensible reason is that my child may be born at Maple Shade. I prefer to go to my own friends, where the blessing that is coming into my blighted life may come into the world under the same English skies where my forefathers first saw the light. If I stayed with you, you would hate both me and the little one, so we will go where we shall be sure of a little love and kindness.
“Farewell—a long farewell.
Molly.”