Molly was saved from replying, for Miss Trueheart’s maid knocked softly
to say that Mr. Laurens had called for his wife, and was waiting.
Hurriedly kissing her friend, the young wife ran down to join her
husband.
“Louise, my darling, your eyes are red. You have been crying,” he said
to her, full of solicitude.
“Miss Trueheart was telling me a sad story about one of her friends,”
she replied, evasively, and he rejoined:
“I am sorry for that, for I, too, have a sad story to relate--one that
will distress you, I am sure.”
Molly gave a guilty start, and looked anxiously at her husband. He was
looking pale and grave.
“Some one has betrayed me,” she thought, with her heart leaping into
her throat, and his next words confirmed her terror.
“Child, you have deceived me,” he said, with portentous sternness.
The clear blue sky, the streets and houses, all whirled up in a wild
confusion before Molly’s blurred sight. She fell heavily back against
the carriage cushions, and it seemed to her as if the hand of death
gripped her heart.
“Oh,” she moaned, in a faint, almost dying voice. “I knew you would
find me out some day, Cecil; for the Lord’s sake forgive me!”
Cecil Laurens looked at his beautiful young wife in amazement. She had
grown ghastly pale, even to the lips, and her pallor was startling by
contrast with her dark hair and brows, and wild, dilated eyes. He put
his hand on hers and found that it was icy cold.
“My darling, my darling; do not look so frightened. I am not an ogre. I
am not going to kill you for one little deception!” he exclaimed.
He was afraid she was going to faint, but at those kindly uttered
words, the warm color rushed suddenly into her face, and she turned her
eyes on him, with an expression little less than adoring.
“Cecil,” she murmured, in an indescribable tone, leaning close to his
shoulder, so close that he could feel the convulsive trembling that
shook her form.
He was alarmed, and exclaimed, reassuringly:
“Darling, your little deception did not matter much. You kept the
secret for your sister’s sake. Remember, I am not blaming you much.”
“Yes, oh, yes, for _her_ sake!” faltered the girl, humbly. “I promised
her never to betray it, but I thought--thought you would be ready to
_kill_ me when you found me out! And you take it easily as this? Oh, my
darling husband, you are an angel!”
“No, my dear, only a very faulty man, but passionately in love with my
charming wife,” returned Cecil Laurens, with a wonderful sweetness in
his violet eyes. Then drawing a letter from his breast, he added: “But
you will want to read John Keith’s letter?”
“John Keith!--was it he who betrayed me?” Molly exclaimed, with sudden
anger blazing from her dark eyes.
“Darling, what does it matter now? The truth could no longer be hidden.
And your poor friend in writing to tell me that he was about to throw
up his situation and go south, gave as a reason for it that dastardly
divorce!”
“Divorce!”
“Yes, dear, but read it and see for yourself!”
“I--I can’t. The carriage goes too fast, and it makes my head dizzy.
Tell me, please,” Molly said, with white lips and startled eyes.
Cecil replaced the letter in his pocket, and said, excitedly:
“John Keith told me what you knew already--that your sister Molly
Trueheart had been his wife by a secret marriage almost two years, and
he added what I suspected, that she was a mercenary, calculating woman.
She refused to live with him even after I had placed him in a situation
where he could support her in comfort. Do not look so shocked, Louise,
darling, for I have more to tell you. She, his unworthy wife, went
away secretly from her old home, and while in close hiding, secured a
divorce from her unlucky husband on a plausible plea of desertion and
non-support. Louise, _Louise_!”
The last words were uttered in a tone of alarm, for his wife had
quietly fainted away.
Fortunately, they were almost home, for they were staying just then at
The Acacias, a pretty, villa-like residence occupied by Cecil’s parents.
“Drive faster!” Cecil thundered to the coachman, and held Molly’s limp
form tightly against his heart, little dreaming that this was a parting
embrace.
In a minute they paused in front of The Acacias, and Cecil got out of
the carriage and went through the gate with his wife in his arms.
“Poor little one, I did not know she was so nervous and weak. She has
had too much excitement lately, too much gayety. I must be more careful
with my tender-hearted little wife. I will take her away from London
for a time to some quiet retreat where she can get her strength back,”
he was thinking as he went up the steps, and as he rang the bell he
pressed an adoring kiss on the pale face lying on his breast.
The door was opened at once, and seeing the drawing-room open and
hearing his mother’s voice, Cecil went in hastily with his burden.