She was gratified to see that they were astonished.
“Yes, sir!” she continued. “As soon as ever I heard the news, I came right here. You’ve heard of Darcy Rose, of course?”
To her surprise, they had not.
“A grand man!” she said. “Him and I—he and me—were partners years ago. A novelty act, it was—Rose and La Reine. He did mind reading and mesmerizing, and I was Jean La Reine, the galvanic girl. I used to be galvanized, you know, stiff as a board, lying in the air, all dressed in white, and my hair down. It was a real pretty act, if I do say it myself; but it kind of went out of style. Darcy, he went in for private mind readings—séances and all, and he made a lot of money.”
“Won’t you join us at dinner?” asked Evan, because he saw Marian looking so patient.
“Deary, I will!” said she. “And sweet it is of you to ask me!”
She flung off the voluminous cape with a fine gesture, and stood before them in a low-necked black satin dress, with a rope of pearls reaching to what might be called her waist. Combined with the plumed hat and the high-heeled velvet slippers, the effect was remarkable—especially if one did not notice how worn and dusty the slippers were, how shabby the dress, how bedraggled the feather.
“Darcy Rose is doomed,” she said. “A grander spirit I never saw. One week ago this very night he sent for me. ‘J.,’ he said, ‘I’m going,’ he said.” She wiped her eyes. “‘And I’m ready,’ he said. ‘I haven’t one of my own kin left,’ he said, ‘and me with a million dollars! J.,’ he said, ‘you and me were partners;’ and the way he talked about old times would have wrenched tears out of a stone. He wanted to know what I was doing, and I told him the solemn truth. ‘Darcy,’ I said, ‘I won’t tell you I’m resting, for the truth is, I’ve given up the profession. I may look all right to you,’ I said, ‘and there are many who admire a stately figger; but it’s not the style just now, and on the stage I do not look so young. I will not hide from you, Darcy, that I am demonstrating French Cream Balm of Lettuce in the stores.’ Tears came into the man’s eyes.” She turned to Marian. “He made a last will and testament,” she said, “leaving all to me.”
“I see!” said Marian.
“And I wish to share it with the boys,” said Aunt Jean. “Darcy Rose isn’t the only one can be grateful. Their mother was an angel to me, when the rest of the family were—were not; and I’ve come to set things right.”