Two hours later she was on her knees beside the dowager’s couch, her face hidden and all her energy given to one plea:
“Maman––Maman! Do not question me; only give me your trust––let us go away!”
“But the man––tah! It is only a fancy; why should you leave for that? Whoever it is, the infatuation grew quickly and will die out the same way––so––”
“No! If I remain I cannot answer for myself. I am ashamed to confess it, but––listen, Maman––but put your arms around me first; he is not worthy, I know it; yet I love him! He vows love to me, yet he is betrothed; I know that, also; but I have no reason left, and my folly will make me go to him if you do not help me. Listen, Maman! I––I will do all you say. I will marry in a year––two years––when this is all over. I will obey you in everything, if you will only take me away. I cannot leave you; yet I am afraid to stay where he is.”
“Afraid! But, Judithe, my child, no one shall intrude upon you. Your friends will protect you from such a man. You have only to refuse to see him, and in a little while––”
“Refuse! Maman, what can I say to make you understand that I could never refuse him again? Yet, oh, the humiliation! Maman, he is the man I despised––the man I said was not fit to be spoken to; it was all true, but when I hear his voice it makes me forget his unworthiness. Listen, Maman! I––I confessed to him today that I loved him; yet I know he is the man who by the laws of America is the owner of Rhoda Larue, and he is now the betrothed of her half-sister; I heard the name of his fiancee today, and it told me the whole story. He is the man! Now, will you take me away?”
The next morning the dowager, Marquise de Caron, left her Paris home for the summer season. Her destination was indefinitely mentioned as Switzerland. Her daughter-in-law accompanied her.
And to Kenneth McVeigh, waiting impatiently the hour when he might go to her, a note was given: