“He has very good reasons,” answered Mollie, beginning to falter all at once, as the matter was presented to her in this new and trying light. “He has very good reasons,—something about business and—and his family, and he does not intend to insult me. He is very fond of me and very proud of me, and he is going to try to make me very happy. He—he has bought me a beautiful trousseau—” And then, seeing the two exchange indignant yet pitying glances, she broke off suddenly and burst forth as if she was trying to hide in anger the subtle, mysterious fear which was beginning to creep upon her. “How dare you look at each other so!” she cried. “How dare you look at me so! I have done nothing wrong. He says many other people do the same thing and—and I won't be looked at so. I shall not tell you another word. You—you look as if I was going to do something wicked and dreadful.” And she flung herself face downward upon the sofa cushions and broke into a passionate, excited sob.
Then Dolly could control herself no longer. She flashed out into a storm of wrath and scorn against this cool, systematic scoundrel, who would have wrought such harm against such simple ignorance of the world. What had they not saved her from, poor, foolish child? She clenched her little, gloved hand and struck it against the sofa arm, the hot color flaming up on her cheeks and the fire lighting in her eyes.
“Mollie!” she exclaimed, “that is what is true! You are going to do something that is dreadful to think of, though you do not think so because you do not know the truth. And we have come to tell you the truth and save you. That man is a villain,—he is the worst of villains. He does not intend to marry you,—he cannot marry you, and, knowing he cannot, he has been laying traps for months to drag you down into a horrible pit of shame. Yes, of the bitterest grief and shame,—poor, simple child as you are,—for I must tell you the whole dreadful truth, though I would far rather hide it from you, if I could. There are some wicked, wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of the worst, for he has got a wife already.”
It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out of her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a wild, appealing look.
“It is n't true,” she insisted, desperately; but her voice was broken, and she sobbed out her words in her fright. “It is n't true! It is n't true! You want to frighten me.” And all at once she ran to Ralph Gowan like a child, and caught hold of his arm with her pretty, shaking hands. “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “you know, don't you? and you won't—you won't—Oh, where is Aimée? I want Aimée! Aimée is n't like the rest of you! She would have made me go home without being so cruel as this.” And the next minute she turned so white and staggered so, that Dolly ran to her, and Gowan was obliged to take her in his arms.
“Tell her that what I have said is true,” said Dolly, crying. “She will begin to understand then.”
And so, while he held her, panting and sobbing and clinging to him, Gowan told her all that he had learned. He was as brief as possible and as tender as a woman. His heart so warmed toward the pretty, lovable, passionately frightened creature, that his voice was far from steady as he told his story.
She did not rebel an instant longer, then. Her terror, under the shock, rendered her only helpless and hysterical. She had so far lost control over herself that she would have believed anything they had chosen to tell her.
“Take me away,” she cried, whitening and shivering, all her bright, pretty color gone, all her wilful petulance struck down at a blow. “Take me home,—take me home to Aimée. I want to go away from here before he comes. I want to go home and die.”
How they got her down-stairs and into the carriage, Dolly scarcely knows. It was enough that they got her there and knew she was safe. Upon the table in the room above they had left a note directed to Mr. Gerald Chandos,—Dolly had directed it and Dolly had written it.