“I mean nothing only that I will keep Sweetheart with me to-night, but that you must take her away to-morrow,” she replied, firmly, adding as he moved to the door: “Remember your first duty is to your wife. Go now and try to make your peace with her, dear boy.”
The dark eyes flashed.
“Good-night, mother,” he said, with sudden coldness, and went out.
The shrill screams that had gone with him up the stairway a little while before were silent now. He had heard a bustle in the hall shortly before, and he knew that the servants had carried their hysterical mistress upstairs. He went softly along the hall and tapped at the door.
It opened quietly. Mlle. Finette showed her sallow face, beady black eyes and smart cap in the crevice of the door.
“How is your mistress?” he asked.
“Vair mooch bettaire, and asleep, m’sieur.”
“Did she leave me any message?”
“Non, m’sieur; but she ordered me to stay by her bed all the night,” her eyes snapping maliciously.
“Very well,” he said, calmly, turning away and going down the hall toward the stairway.