“It was Molly Glenn—so plain and common, father said, but Ernest wrote that she was good and beautiful and a clever actress. I have no doubt she was all three, for my brother was very fastidious. But my story has been too sad for you, dear Mrs. Laurens. It has grieved your gentle heart!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
Molly was saved from replying, for Miss Trueheart’s maid knocked softly to say that Mr. Laurens had called for his wife, and was waiting. Hurriedly kissing her friend, the young wife ran down to join her husband.
“Louise, my darling, your eyes are red. You have been crying,” he said to her, full of solicitude.
“Miss Trueheart was telling me a sad story about one of her friends,” she replied, evasively, and he rejoined:
“I am sorry for that, for I, too, have a sad story to relate—one that will distress you, I am sure.”
Molly gave a guilty start, and looked anxiously at her husband. He was looking pale and grave.
“Some one has betrayed me,” she thought, with her heart leaping into her throat, and his next words confirmed her terror.
“Child, you have deceived me,” he said, with portentous sternness.
The clear blue sky, the streets and houses, all whirled up in a wild confusion before Molly’s blurred sight. She fell heavily back against the carriage cushions, and it seemed to her as if the hand of death gripped her heart.