But she had been too eager to secure herself a little happiness, and she had loved him so foolishly. That was her excuse; and, though it may seem a poor one to some, there are others who will understand it, and pity the poor desolate woman, who had found the thing she had coveted turn to ashes in her mouth, like the apples of the Dead Sea.
“If there are any letters for you, or monsieur, where shall we forward them, miladi?” asked the obsequious manager, as he bowed her to the carriage.
“You had better take care of them for the present,” she replied. “Colonel Dacre will probably be passing through Paris in a few days, and will call for them. If he changes his plans, I will send you my address.”
We may be sure her heart was very full as she passed through the brilliant streets, where but two days ago she had walked proudly on her husband’s arm, happy in his love, and unconscious of a single care. But Phœbe was opposite her, and she was obliged to assume an indifferent air. She even pointed out a few objects of interest to the girl, and bore her martyrdom so finely that the other never once suspected the real state of the case.
Phœbe tried hard to persuade her mistress to rest a little while at Dover, for her worn, wan look made the faithful creature anxious; but Lady Gwendolyn shook her head.
“She would have plenty of time for rest later,” she said, with a wistful, far-away look, as if the rest she longed for was not of this world.
On reaching town in the cold, gray, early morning, Lady Gwendolyn drove to a quiet little hotel, and then, in spite of herself, she was obliged to let Phœbe put her to bed, for she was so utterly weary she could scarcely speak. But mindful of her master’s orders, Phœbe took the law into her own hands, and made Lady Gwendolyn take a bowl of hot soup and a glass of wine. She was passive now from sheer lassitude, and after awhile fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Phœbe sat by her for about an hour, during which time she never once stirred. And then she began to feel so drowsy herself, she was glad to remember that Lady Gwendolyn had told her to go and lie down. Phœbe was not naturally a heavy sleeper, but then she had been up all night, and was so dead beat by this time, that no sooner did her head touch the pillow than she lost count of everything.
The clock striking roused her, and she sprang off the bed and rubbed her eyes, glancing anxiously at the hour.
In her dismay she found it was exactly four! Phœbe smoothed her hair and dress, and darted off to her mistress’ room. Too much shocked at her own neglect to think of an excuse, she knocked softly at the door, and, receiving no answer, concluded that Lady Gwendolyn was still asleep, and ventured to enter. But the room was empty, and the strangest part of it all was, that Lady Gwendolyn’s bonnet, and the dark cloak in which she had traveled, were gone from the place in which Phœbe had put them. And so also were the muff and gloves, and minor accessories of her outdoor toilet.