“I have been to Boston—staying with my cousin—for a little rest. But do tell me—have we lost everything?”
“Lost? Oh, yes, I believe the Starbuck Oil has pretty well gone up,” said he. “But what does it matter? I’ve got enough for two, you know. My dear, I haven’t told you, but I’ve made some money lately! Isn’t it a joke that I should make money? And I can’t tell you how glad I am that I can give you something at last! Your income shall be just what it always was—I’ll take care of that.” Flossie gave a sigh of relief; and actually kissed him, all herself.
Poor Lucie! He had never been so happy in his life. Not even when they had first been married; for though he was a simple gentleman, his heart had grown, since then; and hearts do more of God’s work than intellects, even now in the world. And that very day he went down and bought her diamonds, even finer than those he had given her upon their wedding-day.
Did Flossie change? I think not. It is only in novels that such natures change at nearly forty; it is only in novels, too, that the unrepentant are brought up with a round turn, and a moral pointed, in a flare of transformation-scene blue lights. But Flossie is still rich, and still she leads her set; she is still successful, and will doubtless be so to the very end. It is true some people say she is in her decadence. She seems to have resigned herself to her final place in life; and other younger members of her set, Baby Malgam, perhaps, or Mrs. Jimmy De Witt, are passing her. She will have no catastrophe; and though (perhaps) against all morals of romance, it must be said that she is making simple Lucie happier than he has ever been before.
She still had one great scare, however. It was some weeks or months after this, that the servant brought Lucie word a lady wished to see him. It was in the early afternoon; and he said that it must be for Mrs. Gower; but no, she insisted, the man told him, that it was for him. She was a veiled lady, the servant said, and he ran to his dressing-room and gave orders for her to be ushered to the parlor.
Going down, to his astonishment, he met Justine. He commonly took little note of his wife’s maids; but this one he remembered because she had been with them so long. “You must wish to see Mrs. Gower,” he said. “I’ll go and find her.”
But no, simpered the Frenchwoman, her business was with him.
“Has she not paid you your wages? she told me she had dismissed you—and for cause.”
A black scowl disfigured the handsome face. “Madame has turned me out—like a dog. And I have had no time to get even the dresses that I left. And—” the maid looked at him curiously. “I do know somesings about Madame Monsieur would like to know—and Madame, she would give almost her beaux yeux not to have me tell.”
Lucie’s eyes opened wide; but in a moment their honest wonderment was changed to a look that Justine misinterpreted. “If Monsieur will make it worth my while—je connais la générosité de Monsieur—I can tell of Madame’s voyage to Boston—sings zat he would like to know!”