Molly slept quietly the long night through, under the influence of the
doctor’s soothing medicine, and it was far into the morning when she
awakened and found her faithful Phebe sitting by her side.
“Well, I thought you were going to sleep all day, Mrs. Laurens,” she
exclaimed.
Molly started and rolled her heavy dark eyes around the room.
“Has--has--any one been here to see me?” she queried, faintly, an
instant remembrance of her woes rushing over her mind.
“Yes, madame,” Phebe answered, and a wild light of hope flashed into
the big, pathetic eyes of her mistress.
“Not--not,” she exclaimed, and choked with painful emotion, unable to
utter another word.
“No, not your husband, my dear, but his brother, Doctor Charley,” said
Phebe, gently stroking the little hand that lay outside the cover,
nervously beating the silken counterpane. “He came and found you
sleeping so sweetly that he said he would not wait, as he was in a
hurry to catch a train for Paris.”
“He has gone! My last friend has deserted me,” Molly exclaimed in
sudden, keen disappointment and despair.
“Not so bad as that, Mrs. Laurens, for he left a note that he said
would explain all.”
“Give it to me, Phebe,” cried the poor child, sitting upright in bed
and holding out her eager little hands.
She tore off the envelope in hot haste and read the hurriedly penciled
lines with that morning’s date.
“My poor little sister, I failed to find Cecil last night. Like a
coward he has run away from his misery, and I have just found out
that he has gone to Paris. I must follow him at once, for I mean to
bring him back to you. Take heart, be of good cheer, little one, and
remain where you are until I come back with Cecil. I have talked to
mother and father; but in the first keenness of their trouble they are
obdurate. But be patient. They will all come round in time and forgive
you for the sake of what is coming, and because you were so young and
ignorant. Adieu.
“CHARLEY.”
“God bless him! God bless him for his noble heart!” Molly cried, with
streaming eyes. “Oh, Phebe, is it not noble in him to befriend me when
they have all forsaken me?”
“I have stood by you, too, Mrs. Laurens. Do not forget my love although
it is so humble,” cried the faithful maid.
Molly flung herself gratefully into her arms, and sobbed out her
passionate thanks with raining tears.
“Yesterday I was rich in friends, but today I have no one but you, dear
Phebe, and Doctor Charley,” she sighed.
“Oh, my dear, do not take it so hard. All will come right again. There
now, lie down on your pillow, and let me bring you some breakfast,” she
said, abruptly, to hide her emotion.
Molly lay there still and pale upon the pillow with quick tears raining
from her forlorn eyes and drenching her cheeks.
“It will never come right again--how should it?” she moaned. “I am
found out at last in my sin and punishment has fallen on me. Alas, the
way of the transgressor is indeed hard.”
She had always known that discovery would come some time, that
punishment would overtake her, that she would have to repent in dust
and ashes for her strange sin; but that it would come like this, with
this horrible disgrace upon its track she had no more dreamed than she
had dreamed of being Queen of England, or any other impossible thing.
“I have been loved by him. I have lived with him, believed myself his
wife. I am soon to bear a child to him, yet I am not his wife, never
have been, and now he scorns and deserts me. Yet I brought it all upon
myself by my ignorance and madness,” she sighed to herself, and so
agonizing was this knowledge to the young, devoted heart that it was
a wonder that it did not kill her outright. She would have been glad
if it had done so, for death would have been a welcome relief from the
anguish of soul and body that she was enduring.
“God pardon my sin, and take me out of the world!” she prayed,
despairingly, and there came over her a great wonder at herself that
she had come to such a terrible pass.
“Am I dreaming? Is this indeed Molly Trueheart who a year ago was a
child with no higher aim than fun and frolic, with a heart as light
as thistledown? Great Heaven, why did I ever let them send me to
Ferndale? Nothing but despair and disgrace has come of it, and I
have ruined my life forever for a few months of bitter-sweet bliss,”
she moaned, flinging up her hands and beating the air impatiently in
impotent despair.
The door opened and Phebe entered with a tempting breakfast arranged on
a silver service.
But Molly pushed the dainty viands loathingly away.
“As if I could eat while my poor heart is breaking,” she said, with
pathetic eyes, and just then there came a light tap at the door.
Phebe sat down the tray and found one of the servants waiting.
“A lady to see Mrs. Laurens,” he said. “I told her she was sick, but
she insisted, and--” he broke off with a start, for the visitor was
just behind him.
“I knew Mrs. Laurens would not mind, because I am such an old friend,”
she twittered, insolently, and pushed past Phebe into the room.
It was Louise Barry, handsome and smiling, in a rich costume of dark
silk and velvet.
“Oh, Molly, in bed yet? Luxury has taught you bad habits,” she
exclaimed with a light laugh.
“My mistress is sick, madame,” exclaimed Phebe, banging the door shut,
and turning on the visitor with sharp displeasure.
“Go away, Louise! I can’t bear the sight of you!” Molly cried,
fretfully; but Miss Barry sank coolly into the easiest chair in the
luxurious room.
“Your manners are as bad as of old, Molly,” she retorted, insolently.
“But send your maid away, please; I want to talk to you privately.”
“I don’t want you to talk to me. I won’t send Phebe away!” Molly cried
out, defiantly, with flashing eyes.