“‘You need not, you need not, for she is the truest friend; she would never betray us,’ Anna cried.
“‘And if she did!’ Eugenie replied, with a threatening gleam in her flashing eyes which meant much, but did not intimidate Madame Verwest, who knew her own business and interests better than any one else.
“It was dark when they took the train again, and this time their destination was Havre, and when at last that port was reached, their party consisted of Anna, her baby, Madame Verwest, Eugenie, and the boy Fred, who had on the road been metamorphosed into himself and his own clothes again, and stepped from the car a very assured youth, equal to any emergency which might present itself.
“Fortunately for the travelers, a ship was to sail for New York the following morning, and there was one vacant state-room, which was immediately secured for Anna and Madame Verwest, while Fred went as second-class. Eugenie saw them on board and bade them adieu with tears raining down her cheeks, and when Anna kissed her again and again, and said:
“‘I never can thank you enough, or understand why you have been so kind to me,’ she answered, sobbingly:
“‘Not for you, petite madame. Not for you, seule. Do not think me good as that. I learn to like you much; c’est vrai, but not care particularly to run much risk. It is for her, ma petite, ma sœur, for Agatha, for revenge. He lose me my sister, I lose him his boy, and he will feel it. Oh, he will suffer and I shall think of Agatha, and be glad, much glad at first, and then who knows, I may comfort him, for what matter now for me. I bad anyway.’
“‘Oh, madame,” Anna cried, “you will not go back to him again? You will live a better life! promise me that!’
“‘No, I not promise. I not know. We French not think so bad as you. We do not live without intrigue and little love affairs, but I hate monsieur now, and I so long to see him suffer. Mon Dieu, but it will be good! Write me, ma chere, d’Amerique, and tell me of la mère, and now—it is good-by vraiment.’
“She wrung Anna’s hand, while great tears rolled down her cheeks as she said her last good-by, and turning resolutely away walked from the ship to the landing, where she stood until the vessel was loosened from its moorings and moved slowly out to sea; then, wondering why she should care so much for les Americaines, she was driven to the station, where she took the train for Paris, eager for the denouement when Haverleigh would find how he had been deceived.