Bravely as Pansy carried off everything, she began to fear that her
life with Juliette Ives would never be one of friendship or peace, for
the girl seemed to bristle at all points with poisoned arrows for her
uncle’s wife.
Not that Juliette was outwardly repellent. She had false, sweet smiles
in plenty for Pansy; but she had also the sharpest claws beneath her
silky fur. She lost no opportunity of wounding, when she could do so
with impunity.
A week passed away, and several of the best families in the city had
called upon Colonel Falconer and his wife. None saw her but to praise
her wonderful beauty and her graceful ease of manner; although they had
gathered from Juliette that her origin was obscure, they decided that
she must certainly have been used to good society, and they made due
allowance when Juliette sneered for her disappointment in losing her
uncle’s money.
But the supreme trial of all had not fallen on her yet. Norman Wylde
had not called, although Juliette had given several intimations that he
would do so soon. Sometimes Pansy resolved that she would not see him,
but then that course would be sure to excite remark. The meeting must
take place some time, and she made up her mind at last that she would
face it without a falter.
“I despise him, but I will treat him with the same courtesy that I do
others, that none may suspect what lies hidden beneath the surface,”
she thought.
She had been home something more than a week when Colonel Falconer told
her one morning, with a tender caress, that he should have to leave her
to her own devices, or to Juliette’s society, all day, as he would have
to spend some hours with his lawyers, settling up his sister’s affairs.
“I have a new book. I will interest myself in that,” she replied,
returning his kiss in her gentle, affectionate way.
He went away, and, lest Juliette should think her unsociable, she took
her book into the parlor. It was a warm day, and she wore a lovely
morning dress, all white embroidery and lace, with fluttering loops
of blue ribbons. Her lovely dark hair was drawn into a loose coil on
top of her head, and some curling locks strayed prettily over her white
forehead.
“How pretty you are in that white wrapper, Mrs. Falconer. I do not see
how such a plain old fellow as my uncle ever induced a beautiful young
girl like you to marry him. But, then, these rich old fellows can marry
any one they choose!” exclaimed Juliette.
“I do not consider Colonel Falconer old,” Pansy answered resentfully,
but further words were prevented by the loud ringing of the doorbell.
Juliette sat upright, with a gleam of expectancy in her pale-blue eyes,
and the next moment a servant appeared at the door, saying that a man
wished to see Mrs. Falconer a few moments.
“Show him in here. It is no doubt some message from uncle,” quickly
exclaimed Juliette.
Instantly there darted into Pansy’s mind a quick suspicion:
“She has laid another trap for me.”
And she braced herself to bear anything unflinchingly.
The door opened again, and Mr. Finley, the grocer, her hated
stepfather, entered the room.
Pansy grew pale, but, still holding her book, she arose in a stately
way, fixing on the intruder a cold glance of inquiry.
Mr. Finley, coming in from the outer daylight into the semigloom of the
parlor, did not at first see very clearly. He bowed profoundly to both
ladies, in an awkward way, and began to speak briskly:
“Mrs. Falconer, I am a grocer, and enjoyed the custom and confidence
of the late Mrs. Ives. I have called to solicit----” He stopped and
stared. The beautiful face looking at him struck him with fear and
terror.
He made a retrograde movement toward the door, keeping his bewildered
eyes on her face, and then he caught a glance from Juliette’s eyes that
suddenly loosened his tongue.
He stopped short, exclaiming:
“Heavens, I can’t be mistaken! It--is--she! Mrs. Falconer, excuse me,
please, but are you not my missing stepdaughter, Pansy Laurens?”
A gay little laugh trilled over Pansy’s lips as she blandly assured him
that she had never seen him before in her life, that her maiden name
was Miss Wilcox, and that she was a native of Louisville.
“This is the second time I’ve been told of my likeness to Pansy
Laurens. It is a coincidence, nothing more. Such things often happen,”
she observed carelessly. “By the way, you called to solicit custom for
your business, I believe. You may leave your card, and I will refer it
to my husband.”
Thus coolly dismissed, and quite ignoring the request for his card, Mr.
Finley stumbled out, with a fixed conviction in his mind that Pansy
Laurens had never been drowned at all, but had married this rich man
and come back to triumph over them all.
He understood now why Juliette had sent him that little note, saying
that her uncle’s wife would be glad to have him call, as she wished to
make arrangements with him about supplying the family groceries.
“She recognized her, and wished for me to do so, unaided by any hint
from her,” he thought and wondered: “What ought I to do about it?
I hope I shall see Miss Ives soon, for this discovery places a mine
of gold in my reach, and I must speedily find out in what way I am
to make the most of it. Miss Ives is poor now, and Norman Wylde is
comparatively so, as he will have no money until his father dies. I do
not know which I should blackmail--Falconer or his wife.”