“Different?”
“Yes, Miss Barry, different and most unwelcome. Instead of banishing that wretched girl from this roof forever, I am here to protect her from the consequences of her sin, to shield her by my presence from the faintest breath of scandal. In short, to keep the world from ever knowing the story of her folly and sin.”
Louise paled and trembled.
“Dear madame, what can you mean?” huskily.
“I mean that since yesterday embarrassing exigencies have arisen that make it impossible for us to desert Molly Trueheart, great as her treachery has been;” and in a few words she told Louise what she already knew—the condition of Molly—that made it imperative on Cecil, for his own honor’s sake, to give her once more the shelter of his name.
“You will not have him marry her over again! Good heavens, that will be putting a premium on her treachery, and—and—he hates her now. She could never be his beloved again!” Louise cried, in wild alarm and secret rage.
“No he can never tolerate her again, she will never be aught but his wife in name only. He will spend his time apart from her, of course; but to the world she must still appear an honored and beloved wife for the sake of the child that is coming to Cecil. We are all coming back here to stay in order to keep up appearances before prying eyes; but, of course, our intercourse with her will be of the barest sort. She will be despised among us, and it will be a mercy to us all if Providence should remove her from Cecil’s way when the hour of her trial comes,” cried Mrs. Laurens, resentfully.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Louise Barry went away from that meeting with Mrs. Laurens with a heart burning with secret wrath and jealousy.
“Am I going to be foiled like this, betrayed like this by that chit of a girl?” she muttered gloomily.