She well knew why; she had long known that she loved Clifford Faxon with all her heart, and she was sure that he returned her affection, although as yet no word of confession had escaped him. Nevertheless, she had abundant evidence of the fact in his every act, in every glance of his eyes and every tone of his voice. Yet she was not impatient—she was content to bide his time, well knowing that when he felt it right to speak he would do so.
Her new happiness added greatly to her loveliness. There was a brighter light in her deep blue eyes, a sweeter, sunnier smile—if that were possible—on her lips, a buoyancy, an elasticity in her every movement and step which plainly betrayed that she loved to live and lived to love.
Monsieur Lamonti was quick to observe these things, and wondered within himself what had caused this radiant change in her. He was not long left in doubt, for one afternoon he met the lovers, face to face, upon the street.
Mollie stopped short in his path and greeted him cordially; then, with beaming eyes and heightened color, introduced her companion. The three stood chatting for a few moments, then parted and went their different ways.
The next morning Monsieur Lamonti interrupted Mollie in her work, and, after discussing two or three questions relating to business, suddenly inquired:
"By the way, mademoiselle, allow me to ask who was the gentleman to whom you introduced me yesterday? His name, of course, I know—Monsieur Faxon—but is he an old or a new friend?"
Mollie blushed delightfully at the question.
"He is both, monsieur, if you can comprehend anything so paradoxical," she said with a musical little laugh of rippling happiness, and which called an answering smile to her listener's lips. Then she went on and frankly told him the whole of Cliff's history as far as she knew it, from the time of her first meeting with him in the station at New Haven to his coming to Washington, while Monsieur Lamonti appeared greatly interested, and reading in the girl's every look and tone the sweet love-story that was making her life so beautiful.
"Ah," he observed when she concluded, "Mr. Faxon is a self-made man; he is doubtless a noble young man. I am sure he will rise yet higher and do himself honor."
Mollie smiled with pleasure at his commendation of her lover.