"Mr. Le Roy is with his mother. He desires that you will not disturb her," she said.
Laurel answered quietly.
"You may go away, and leave me now, Marie, I wish to be alone for awhile."
When the maid had gone she went to the window, drew back the rich curtains of silk and lace and gazed out upon the scene. Night had fallen—the beautiful moonlit summer night. The perfume of roses and honeysuckles came floating heavily on the soft air, the wide expanse of the Hudson shone like a silver sea.
"I must go away from Eden," said the girl-wife to herself, drearily. "What shall I do with my empty, ruined life?"
Strangely enough there came to her a memory of the day she had first met St. Leon Le Roy—the questions she had asked him and his strange reply:
"I believe I should throw myself into yonder beautiful river and so end all," he had said.
[CHAPTER XLIII.]
Mlle. Marie was very glad to get away from attendance on her mistress for a few hours. There is nothing happens in the parlor, but is immediately communicated to the kitchen, so the dénouement in high life had immediately become the sensation in low life below stairs. The maid was eager to join the gossips.