“Rose kept the pearls?” Madge questioned.
“So it was generally believed, but I doubt if anyone ever knew for certain. The matter was suddenly hushed up.”
Mrs. Grandale relapsed into a meditative silence, seeming to forget the girls. Then she said, half to herself: “No one ever saw Rose wear the pearls—that was the odd part of it.”
“Were Rose and Florence friends after that?” Cara probed.
“They went about together but it was apparent things were not as should be between two sisters. Everyone said the pearls brought them misfortune. At any rate, Florence died the following year.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Cara murmured. “How poor Rose must have felt.”
“She dropped out of society after that,” Mrs. Grandale returned. “For years, she lived alone at the old mansion and then one day, she up and married.”
“She isn’t living now, of course?” Madge inquired.
“Oh, no, she died young—shortly after her daughter was born. The little girl was called Agatha. She’s the last of the Swenster line now, and they say the estate has dwindled to almost nothing.”
“What became of Agatha Swenster?” Cara asked.