“I dreamed it all, for the dead see clearly, and Azalia would never have wished me to take one so false and unworthy into her place,” she sighed.
Dashing away the bitter tears, the deceived and indignant lady made her way to the presence of Fair, whom she had not seen since last night, when she had sent her away, abashed and weeping, from the presence of Bayard Lorraine, after making her bitter confession.
Betty, the maid, had told her that her young mistress had been ill and sleepless all night, that she had sobbed herself into a high fever; but Mrs. Howard’s anger had hardened her heart, and, without going near poor Fair, she had answered hastily:
“Let her suffer, then, for she richly deserves it.”
Betty was so devoted to her mistress that she angrily reported those words to her, and Fair wept more than ever when she realized that her friend and benefactress had hardened her heart against her.
She had not undressed all night, and when Mrs. Howard entered the room she was lying on a sofa in the crushed and rumpled white silk tea gown, with her magnificent, rippling, red-gold tresses falling to her waist in rich disorder. Her face was very pale, and the light of the beautiful brown eyes was dimmed by the rivers of tears she had shed.
“Oh, mother!” she exclaimed piteously, half extending her arms; but the lady frowned, and said stiffly:
“Your husband, Prince Gonzaga, desires to see you.”
Instantly the beautiful face grew ghastly with fear, and Fair almost shrieked out:
“I cannot see him! I will not!”