"Well, it is the way of the world I suppose," said Mollie with a gentle sigh. "She used to appear to be very fond of me when we lived in New York, and we have exchanged visits many times, but she, like others, has given me a very cold shoulder since I became the child of misfortune, and what makes it seem worse in this case is the fact that Mr. Temple was responsible for the climax of my father's financial ruin."
She explained as well as she was able how this had happened, but the lovers soon drifted to more agreeable topics, and, caring little for either the smiles or frowns of the Temples, or of any one else, in fact, for they were far too deeply absorbed in their own new-found happiness—their world, for the present at least, was circumscribed by each other and their individual interests.
But for Mollie the tables were soon to be turned by a most unexpected and signal triumph—a triumph which caused many an old friend (?) a taste of bitter regret and mortification.
About a week later, on entering Monsieur Lamonti's office, she found her friend absent and a note lying on her desk. It proved to be from her employer, who mentioned that he was a trifle under the weather, but requested that she would go on with her work as far as she was able and then come to him for instructions.
She worked diligently until nearly noon, then, finding that she could do no more without explicit directions, she donned her hat and jacket and proceeded to Monsieur Lamonti's residence.
She found him ill in bed with a violent cold, and quite feverish, but he assured her that he would be all right in a day or two, when he would rejoin her at the office.
But the next morning a note from Nannette announced that he was worse, and as Mollie could not work alone, she went to the house, where she spent most of the day caring for Lucille, in order to allow the maid to give her undivided attention to her master. She left about five o'clock feeling greatly depressed, for Monsieur Lamonti had grown steadily worse, and the physician had told her that he was a very sick man, though he might pull through—a few hours would decide the matter.
Faxon spent the evening with her, and she was somewhat cheered by his presence. He left her at ten, but had not been gone fifteen minutes when Mollie heard a carriage dash up to the door and the next moment the bell clanged a vigorous and imperative peal.
She rushed to the door to find Monsieur Lamonti's footman standing without and looking pale and anxious.
"Oh! what is it?" she breathed in an almost inarticulate voice.