“After leaving Chateau d’Or, Eugenie had gone to her father, to whom she confessed the whole shameful story of her life, and told what she knew of poor Agatha’s fate. Such news was too much for the old man, who the day following was stricken with paralysis and died. Doubly and trebly steeped in remorse, and accusing herself as the murderer of both father and sister, Eugenie returned to Paris, and before she could collect her senses sufficiently to write to Anna’s friends, she sank into that nervous, half delirious state of mind in which she continued until January was nearly gone, when she began to rally. But her improvement was so slow, and she was so weak, that it was some time before she had the power to write, as she had promised, to the friends in Millfield. This was quite a task for her, as she could write English very indifferently, and mixed it up with a good deal of French. But she accomplished it at last, and managed, pretty accurately and fully, to tell what she had heard from Anna, to propose a plan for action, in which she was to be one of the principals.
“It would be impossible to describe the surprise and consternation, amounting almost to incredulity, with which Mrs. Strong listened to this letter which Mary contrived to read with the help of the dictionary and Fred, who knew a little French. At first it did not seem to her possible that any man could be so deliberately cruel and treacherous, but the facts were there, and when she recalled many things which had appeared strange in Mr. Haverleigh’s letters, she could not doubt the truth of what Eugenie had written. Fred did not doubt it for a moment. He had always distrusted Haverleigh; always thought it strange that notwithstanding the many times they had asked where Anna was, they had never received a reply. They knew now where she was, but for a few moments sat staring blankly at each other, too much benumbed and bewildered to speak. Fred was the first to rally, and with quivering lip and clinched fist exclaimed:
“‘If he was here I’d kill him.’
“That broke the spell at once; the tongues were loosened, and they talked long and earnestly together of the best course to be pursued, and deciding finally to follow Eugenie’s directions. But in order to do this it was necessary to write to her first, and this Fred did that very day, sending his letter by the next mail which left Millfield, and then, during the interval of waiting devoted himself assiduously to acquiring a speaking knowledge of the French language. Fortunately there was in Millfield a native teacher, and to him Fred went for instruction, studying night and day, and working so industriously that by the time Eugenie’s second letter was received, and he was ready to start on his journey, he felt certain of at least making himself understood in whatever part of France he might be.
“Both Mrs. Strong and her daughter thought it better to say nothing of Eugenie’s letters and the information they contained for the present, but rather to wait for the result of Fred’s adventure. Consequently all the people knew was that Fred was going to see his sister, and it was generally supposed that Mr. Haverleigh had forwarded the money for the voyage, and his kindness and generosity to his wife’s family was the subject of much comment and praise. Little did the people of Millfield dream of the truth, or suspect that when at last the Oceanic sailed down the harbor of New York with Fred Strong on board, he was there with the steerage passengers and under the name of Charles Patterson. He was not able to take a first-class passage, and he was afraid to bear his own name lest by some chance it should reach the eye of Mr. Haverleigh, who would thus be put on the alert. So he bore cheerfully all the annoyances and discomforts of a steerage passage, kept himself very quiet, and mostly aloof from all his companions but one, a Swiss lad who spoke French, and who willingly taught and talked with the young American so anxious to learn.
CHAPTER IX.
EUGENIE’S WAITING-MAID.
“‘Charles Patterson, London,’ was the name of the occupant of No. 512, Hotel du Louvre, Paris, and 512 was a small bedroom on the fifth floor, and looked down upon the busy Rue St. Honore. Charles was a very fair, girlish-looking boy, who, from the night he took possession of No. 512, kept his room entirely, and was served in his apartment daily with ‘cafe complet’ and two eggs in the morning, and with ‘bif-tek au pommes’ and haricots verts for dinner in the afternoon. At first the waiter had pointed significantly to the printed notice that having his meals thus served would cost an extra franc, but Charles had answered promptly, ‘Je le sais,’ and that had ended it, and he was free to eat where he liked. Nobody noticed or thought of him again until the close of the second day, when, as he stood looking down upon the street below, and reading the strange names on the signs, there came a knock at the door, and a servant handed in a card bearing the name of ‘Eugenie Arschinard.’ The lady herself was in the hall near the door, and in a moment was in the room alone with the young boy, whom she addressed as ‘Monsieur Sharles,’ and whom she regarded intently as he brought her a chair, and then proceeded to light the one candle which the room possessed.
“‘Mon Dieu!’ she began, in her pretty, half-French, half-English style; ‘vous etes un petit garcon! Mais n’importe. You make a very joli—what you call him?—waiting-maid pour moi. Ah! but you very like votre sœur. Poor leetle madame!’
“‘Oh, tell me of Anna, please! Tell me all you know, and what I am to do,’ Fred said, speaking in a whisper, as she had done, lest the occupants of the adjoining rooms should hear what it was necessary to be kept secret.