But she found her young mistress alone as usual, for the other members of the family seldom entered the sick-room.
Molly had fallen asleep on her sofa in her pretty white négligé, and her maid, who had an eye for beauty, gazed at her admiringly for some moments, noticing that a tear had fallen and was only half dried upon her cheek.
“How pretty she is! No wonder monsieur is so ready to forgive her and love her again,” she thought. “I wonder that Miss Barry can have the heart—I shouldn’t, I know, but for the five hundred dollars. But I need that so bad, or I wouldn’t, no, I wouldn’t have been tempted to do such a deed. Whatever happens, I’ll bet all my money he’ll never marry that wicked Louise!”
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Florine Dabol had promised heartless Louise Barry that she would poison the hapless creature before her; but, as she gazed at the lovely sleeping face, so like that of a grieved child that has sobbed itself to sleep, a twinge of keen remorse tore her heart.
She was crafty and deceitful and fond of intrigues, like all French maids; but she had never committed a crime in her life, and she began to tremble now at the enormity of what she had promised to do.
Vain and pretty, fond of finery, ease, and pleasure, Florine’s god was money; and upon her avarice Louise had cleverly worked, dazzling her with the promise of five hundred dollars in gold when she should come and tell her that deed of crime was accomplished and Cecil Laurens’ young wife dead.
In Florine’s pocket was the tiny powder that, placed in Molly’s glass, was to accomplish the deed; and Louise, with the powder, had given the maid a note that was such a perfect copy of Molly’s writing that, when found in her room next morning, it would be enough to convince every one that Molly had committed suicide.
It was a clever plan, and there was nothing to prevent its being carried out successfully. Molly lay there, weak and helpless, in her enemy’s power.
Yet in that very helplessness lay her defense against the powers of evil.