“I can not blame her for being angry with me. I deserve it all for my treachery and it is very good of her to stay here, as you say she does, to keep my secret from the world,” she sighed, in sad humility and remorse. “So let her come when she will, Phebe, and never tell her how her cold looks frighten me and make me worse.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Mrs. Laurens was not a hard woman, but she could not help being very angry with the girl who had deceived her son, and she felt, although she would not have openly admitted it, that she would not be sorry if the accident that the physician was trying to prevent should happen.
“Cecil would not have to take her back to spoil his life further,” she said to herself, and no pity came to her for the girl whose young life was spoiled also by the sin into which her love had led her.
Anger and resentment were too strong to admit sweet pity into her breast.
“I must not wish that she should die, yet that would be the best thing that could happen for her and for us all,” she thought more than once.
So it happened that she took no part in nursing the invalid beyond the mere cold duty calls she made morning and night for the sake of appearances.
But the accident for which she could not help hoping did not occur, owing to the care of the physician, and the good nursing of Phebe. Molly began to get gradually better and to look with hollow, restless orbs for the return of the proud, angry husband who had repudiated and forsaken her when he discovered her treachery.
“Will he never come again, Phebe?” she would moan restlessly when two weeks had passed and neither Doctor Charley nor his brother had returned to London.
“Doctor Laurens will be sure to bring him as soon as he finds him. Try to be patient, dearie,” Phebe would reply, tenderly, but Molly would sob hopelessly, believing that fate had done its worst for her, and that Cecil would never return.