“He can not think so hardly of me then, when he finds that my only sin was committed through love of him,” she thought, hopefully, and she stole out one night when she thought Florine was busy in the dressing-room, and herself placed the important letter in the box that stood ready in the hall for the family’s mail.
But lynx eyes watched the furtive act, and before Molly’s excited eyes closed that night Florine had secured the letter, and very soon it was in the hands of Louise Barry.
Ah, how hopefully Molly waited for an answer—an answer that never came, for the young doctor’s letters to her were always intercepted as were hers to him.
But she was too loyal-hearted to believe that he had forgotten her, or that he neglected to write. She said to herself that he had never received her letter.
“It is some more of Louise’s treachery,” she thought.
For two weeks she had not ventured out of her room, but one evening she was so restless she felt that she could bear it no longer.
“Florine, you may bring out a dinner dress for me, I shall dine with the family,” she said.
“Madame does not mean it—ill as she looks!” disapprovingly.
“I am strong enough. It is for you to obey my commands, Florine, not to dictate to me,” Molly answered, with sudden dignity that silenced all remonstrance.
Florine brought a pretty white dress and some pearls and dressed her mistress exquisitely. Then she said, apologetically: