“In this crisis, common to ardent natures like theirs, that Frenchwoman became the confidante of both husband and wife.
“In this state, De Marke took his wife from her old home, and installed her in a splendid establishment, which he had prepared for her reception in the city. She left us—that poor child—drowned in tears—and in tears she came to us again.
“We never knew what passed in Elsie’s home after this. Once or twice we visited her always to return, with heavy hearts. Amid all the splendor with which De Marke surrounded her, she seemed pining to death. But Elsie had grown proud and reserved even with her old parents, and when we asked the cause of her evident anxiety, she would strive to cheer us with smiles, and that was heart-breaking.
“The Frenchwoman had changed more than Elsie. From a quiet, humble dependant, she had sprung up into an assuming, fine lady, and seemed far more decidedly mistress of the house than our daughter. Elsie did not seem aware of this, for her poor, wistful eyes were always fixed on one point. She cared for no authority save that which sprung from her husband’s love. I doubt if she was conscious how great the alteration was which we detected in the deportment of this Frenchwoman.
“At last, a change stole over Elsie; a fever of the heart came on; she dashed aside her tears, and plunged madly into the fashionable world. She was young, fresh, and wonderfully beautiful. Her husband’s wealth gave power to these attractions. She became the reigning belle of watering-places, the queen of every assembly-room. We read her praises in the fashionable journals. Through all society her loveliness shone light like a star.
“And we two lonely old people heard all this with aching hearts; for well we knew this eclat was but another expression of our daughter’s misery. Then followed other paragraphs in the journals that had been so busy with the praise of our child. Dark hints, mysterious insinuations, and at last open scandal, that made the mother’s cheek turn white, and the blood boil in my veins. We were quiet people; but it was impossible to endure this. To-morrow, I said, to-morrow I will go after my child; they have driven her to desperation; she shall come home; and that man shall render us a strict account of his conduct regarding her.
“The mother only answered me with her tears and gentle entreaties that I would bring Elsie home.
“Everything was ready. In the morning, I was to set forth; but that night, that very night, our child, our poor, poor Elsie came home, in the dark, and all alone.
“Her husband had turned her out-of-doors.
“We were sitting together, the mother and I, waiting for the morning; for sleep was impossible, and we felt less unhappy in each other’s presence, though we scarcely exchanged a word in the profound sadness that had fallen upon us. Never, in my whole life, do I remember a night of such dreary length. Everything was still. It was winter, and the snow was falling out-of-doors in great flakes, with that perpetual whiteness which makes a night-storm so ghastly. The hickory logs had burned through, and fallen apart into a bed of dying embers; and lay smouldering away, giving out smoke, but no flame.