When she was a year old certain interests connected with his invention demanded Monsieur Lamonti's presence in America, while, during the last few years, having become somewhat prominent in matters of a political nature, he was elected a sort of charge d'affaires to conduct certain negotiations of a delicate nature in this country, and which would require the exercise of tact, judgment, and diplomacy.
He had accepted the commission, more for the sake of having plenty to occupy his mind and prevent him from dwelling upon his many sorrows, than because he desired public office and emolument, hence his presence in the nation's capital, where he had resided during the last two years.
"Thus you will understand, mademoiselle," he had observed to Mollie with a heavy sigh, when telling her something of his life, "how utterly desolate I should have been to-day, if you had not so bravely risked your life to save my little Lucille. The world would hold nothing for me if I were to lose her—she is the one link that now holds me here—that makes me prize in the least a life that has been full of sorrow. See!" he interposed, touching the silvery locks above his temples. "I am not yet quite fifty years of age, and any one would declare that I am more than sixty."
It was all very sad, Mollie thought—there were many sad and incomprehensible things in life that were forcing themselves more and more upon her observation of late, and she could not be reconciled to them. If she could have known how she cheered the sorrow-burdened man with her sweet and sunny presence—how like a ray of bright, warm sunshine she seemed, whenever she appeared in his office, and that her voice was, like Lucille's, as inspiring and soothing to him as a strain of sweetest music, she would have been very happy.
He frequently brought the child to the office, to make a little call upon her, and the two soon began to grow very fond of each other. Then, too, Monsieur Lamonti would often call for her in the afternoon to go for a drive with them, and, upon several occasions, he had invited her to be present when he made a small fete for his granddaughter, to assist in entertaining the children, since he had no mistress in his home to manage such festivities, and he had learned that she dearly loved little ones. At such times he exerted himself to make the occasion pleasant for her in other ways—by showing her works of art and numerous curios which he had gathered from various portions of the world by playing various instruments, for he was very talented in music and could play the organ, harp, piano, and violin with more skill than many a professional while he could talk of masters and artists, giving their history and merits, with a fluency which proved him thoroughly posted in such matters. He was also very thoughtful for Mr. Heatherford, often sending his carriage to take him out for an airing, the coachman and footman being instructed to show him every attention while wines, fruits, and other delicacies for him mysteriously found their way into Eliza's domains.
He also had learned much of the girl's past, previous to her misfortunes; he studied her from day to day and learned to reverence the strength of character and purity of purpose which were apparent in her every act, and thus there grew up a strong and abiding friendship between the fair young girl and the courtly Frenchman.
One morning Mollie started forth, at the usual hour, to go to the office, and for some reason she seemed brighter and happier than common. She was in perfect health, there was an exquisite color in her cheeks, her lips were like holly berries, and her eyes glowed with the hope and vigor that belonged to her young life.
She was clad in a golden-brown broadcloth costume, trimmed with narrow bands of sable fur. It was one of the last dresses she had bought in Paris, recently made over by a clever modiste—whom she had discovered near her—and it fitted her exquisitely, showing her finely proportioned figure to good advantage. Her hat matched her suit in color and was brightened by the wing of a Baltimore oriole. In her well-gloved hands she carried a rich, but modest pocketbook—another relic of the past, and no one would have dreamed, as this stylish and elegantly clad young woman stepped upon the street-car on her way to Monsieur Lamonti's office, that she was working for her daily bread.
She might have passed for the wife or daughter of some senator or other distinguished official—although it was rather an early hour for the elite to be abroad—and many an admiring eye lingered upon her bright beauty.
In the car her eye was attracted by a gentleman who was standing near her. He was clinging to a strap overhead, and as Mollie's glance swept over him and upward, along his arm to the hand above, her heart gave a great startled bound, her cheeks flushed a vivid scarlet, and her eyes darkened until they seemed almost black.