"i know you did not, love," clifford returned as he bent forward and gathered both her hands into his, "and it was an unfair question, i am afraid. but i love you, dear—i love you. you must have seen it, you must have read it for weeks, for my every thought has been of and for you, and sometimes i have even dared to think that your thought has been responsive to mine, assuring me that i had won your heart, and that my future is to be crowned with the supreme blessing of your love. you do not turn from me—you do not take your hands from mine—may i hope, mollie? tell me that you love me—that you will be my wife when i shall have won a position worthy to offer you. may i wear the buds as the token of your assent? oh, my darling, where can i find language to tell you all that is in my heart? tell me—tell me!"
his passionate emotion moved her deeply, although his voice had been raised scarcely above a whisper. his fond words, his rich, thrilling tones were like the solemn notes of an organ. she never had been so supremely happy in her life as at that moment, and yet she wanted to weep.
but her whole heart went out to him. she lifted her eyes to his and they were brimming with tears.
"yes, you know—you must have long known that i love you, clifford," she whispered.
he could not speak for the moment. he was white, even to his lips, with joy that was beyond words. he lifted her hands and laid them about his neck; then his arms slid around her graceful form and drew her to his breast, where he held her close—so close that she could both feel and hear the throbbing of his heart.
they stood thus for a few moments, speechless from the consciousness of the sacred union. at length clifford gently released her and, fondly placing one hand beneath her chin, lifted her face and scanned it earnestly.
"tears?" he said softly.
"yes," said mollie, with a shy, sweet laugh, "my cup is so full it cannot hold all my joy, and some had to brim over."
"sweetheart!" he murmured, but he still continued to study her face with a look that seemed to have something of wonderment in it.
"why do you look at me like that? of what are you thinking?" mollie inquired.
"i am wondering how it would have been with us if mr. heatherford had never lost his millions," said the young man reflectively.
"clifford!" cried mollie, in a tone of reproach, "you know i should have loved you just the same; but i am glad that i am poor, for i am awfully afraid if i had not been, you would have been too proud to tell me what you have told me to-night."
"suppose such had been the case?" he smilingly questioned.
"i—i think i should have made you confess it somehow," she replied with an imperative little tap of her foot, "or"—with a gleam of mischief in her happy eyes, "i might have unsexed myself and proposed to you—oh! i am afraid i almost did as it is," she concluded, flushing again rosily as she thought of the rosebuds.
he laughed joyously and caught her to him again; then, bending his handsome head, he kissed her softly, reverently on her lips.
"i shall never wear anything but the red moss-rose after this," he said, "and now after you have fastened them in for me, we must go, or we shall be late for the opera. and i nearly forget, dear—i have tickets for to-morrow night to see willard in the 'professor's love-story.'"
"aren't you getting dissipated, cliff?" questioned mollie chidingly.
"wouldn't you like to see the play?"
mollie took the rosebuds daintily in her white-gloved fingers, shot a sly glance up at him as she kissed them, then slipped them deftly into the buttonhole and fastened them there.
"yes. willard is fine," she said, "but i'm afraid that i am not quite so deeply interested in the 'professor's love-story' just at present as i am in my own."
"my darling!" said faxon in a voice that was tremulous with his new, great happiness as he pressed his lips upon her white forehead. then he lifted a beautiful opera-cloak that was hanging over a chair, and laid it over her shoulders.
it was made of white brocaded satin, trimmed with ermine, and her golden-crowned head, with the crescent of flashing diamonds rising out of its snowy whiteness, made him think of some rare and beautiful flower.
"my own, you look like a queen in your coronation-robe, and i feel like a king who has just been crowned," he fondly murmured as he fastened the silver clasp beneath her chin.
"you are a king, cliff—my king," mollie softly responded.
a minute later they were rolling swiftly up-town, sitting hand in hand and feeling as if an enchanted future lay before them.
the house was filled and brilliant with a first-night audience as they stepped within their box, and many a glass was leveled at the peerlessly beautiful girl and her handsome escort, with expressions of mingled admiration, wonder, and curiosity. as it happened, philip wentworth and his mother were located in the box directly opposite, and both gave a start of undisguised surprise as mollie took her seat, for they recognized her instantly.
"why, phil!" exclaimed mrs. temple, "she really looks like the old-time mollie, doesn't she? she still has her diamonds, i see, and i suppose no one here would believe she had ever worn that dress before. i recognize it, however, although i must confess it looks just as fresh as it did when she arrived from paris. she is downright beautiful, phil! oh, dear! i wish they hadn't lost their money. do you know who that is with her? it seems as if i had seen him before."
"he's that cad faxon—blast him!" philip replied, his face flaming with sudden anger and shame.
"why do you call him that, phil?—he certainly looks like a gentleman. oh, by the way, isn't he the young man who worked his own way through harvard and took the second honor in your class?"
"yes."
"and he is the one who had that ring of mollie's. did you ever find out how he came by it?"
"no." he preferred to lie about it rather than explain faxon's heroic deed.
"mercy, phil, how monosyllabic you are," said mrs. temple as she shot a curious sidelong glance at him. "i fully intended to ask mollie about it when she returned, but i never thought of it. have you any idea how he became acquainted with mollie?"
"how should i know?" queried philip evasively, but he found great difficulty in controlling himself sufficiently to preserve a respectful tone, and his hands were so tightly clenched that the nails actually cut the palms.
the sight of the couple opposite had brought vividly to his mind the night when he had overtaken and insulted mollie upon the street and faxon had come to the rescue. he had never seen either of them since, but he had felt deeply humiliated every time he had thought of the affair, and his old hatred of clifford increased a hundred-fold in view of the indignity, merited though it was, that he had suffered at his hands.
"how handsome he is!" he mentally exclaimed as he studied those bright faces. "he is dressed in the very latest style, too, and i wonder where he gets the cash to sport a box? and mollie—she is just too lovely for anything!" a shaft of pain went quivering through him from head to foot as he feasted his eyes upon her beauty.
"there is no one like her—and i love her in spite of everything," he went on, choking back something very like a sob, "but, of course, she must positively hate me now. what a fool i was not to have made sure that she was a stranger before i spoke to her that night!"
these were some of the thoughts which thronged philip wentworth's brain as he sat and watched the young couple, paying very little heed to the brilliant prima donna on the stage.
the footlights were bright enough to enable him to see their every movement—almost their every look, and he was quick to observe faxon's tender glance and manner whenever he addressed his fair companion; while mollie's varying color, the glad light in her eyes, whenever they met his, and the happy smiles that rippled over her lips were simply maddening to his jealous heart, and aroused a terrible fear within him.
"by jove!" he said to himself, a cold chill creeping over him. "i believe, upon my soul that there is an understanding between them, and it would certainly cap the climax of the worst i ever dreamed if he should win her."
he could not tell whether mollie was conscious of his and his mother's presence or not. of course, he knew that the occupants of one box were just as conspicuous as those in another, and two or three times he had seen her lift her gold-mounted glass and sweep the house. but if she had seen them she gave no sign of the fact.
he wondered if she would preserve the strict letter of the sentence which she had pronounced upon him the last time they met, if he should happen to encounter her again, and he was soon to have that question settled beyond all doubt.
when the opera was over and while mollie and clifford were waiting at the entrance of the theater for their carriage, philip and his mother came upon them suddenly.
mrs. temple, finished woman of the world though she was, was taken aback a trifle, and the warm color flushed to her face. yet she greeted mollie with something of her old-time cordiality, for the girl was so exquisitely lovely that her heart involuntarily warmed toward her.
still there was a certain reserve in her manner which mollie was quick to feel, although she responded with equal courtesy. she was keenly sensitive to the fact also that mrs. temple had felt no interest to seek her out, even though she had been in washington many weeks; but, at the same time, she bore herself with a quiet dignity, which plainly betrayed that it would take more than the loss of property and fair-weather friends to crush either her spirit or self-respect. moreover, when phil advanced as his mother moved on she looked him full in the face and gave him the cut direct.
he was as white as his immaculate tie as he strode on, inwardly foaming with mingled rage and mortification. he knew now that she would adhere to what she had said. she had taken her stand and would maintain it, and he realized that he fully merited the punishment meted out to him. but to see her standing so proudly by the side of the man whom he both envied and hated, and leaning upon his arm with that air of confidence and content, was almost more than he could endure and retain his self-control.
clifford had been a deeply interested observer of the little scene. philip wentworth and his mother had taken no more notice of him than if he had been simply one of the pillars which supported the arch above them.
mollie also had observed philip's slight and resented it, her hand involuntarily closing over cliff's arm, and thus betraying her indignation. possibly she might not have been quite so frigidly statuesque but for that.
"i did not care to introduce you to mrs. temple, dear," she explained to clifford as soon as they were seated in their carriage. "i am afraid, though, it made it a trifle awkward for you; but i hope you do not mind."
"not in the least, for, of course, it was her place to recognize me, since we had met before," faxon smilingly returned.
"what!" cried mollie, in resentful astonishment, "and she presumed to ignore you!"
"it is barely possible that she did not recognize me," the young man quietly replied, although he was quite sure to the contrary, for he had not been unobservant of the interest which the occupants of the box opposite his own had manifested in connection with mollie and himself during the evening.
then he told her something of the circumstances of his meeting with mr. temple on the campus at cambridge four years previous.
"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.
"the master is going, miss, for sure, and wants to see you," the man replied.
mollie seized a long wrap and, while she was fastening it about her, explained to eliza that she should be away all night. the next minute she was inside the carriage and being whirled at a rapid rate toward the lamonti mansion.
she was comparatively calm when she arrived and followed the weeping nannette to her master's room without a word, although she held the girl's hand in a clasp of sympathy on the way hither.
she was terribly shocked at the change in her kind friend which the last few hours had made, but she gave no outward sign of this except that she was very pale.
she found the physician, a trained nurse, and monsieur lamonti's lawyer present; but paying no heed to them she walked quietly to the bedside, where she sat down and took the hand which the man weakly extended to her. he was white as wax, but very calm, and smiled as his fingers closed over hers. he glanced up at his lawyer.
"tell them to go out," he said, indicating the nurse, nannette, and the physician, and as they passed from the room mollie bent over her friend.
"you sent for me," she said gently, "what can i do for you?"
"just this, mademoiselle," he replied gravely, but speaking with difficulty, "you have promised to care for my lucille, to rear and educate her carefully, to be, in fact, a mother to her, as well as her legal guardian until she is of age or marries?"
"yes," briefly but solemnly assented mollie.
he thanked her with a little pressure of her hand.
"i have left explicit instructions," he resumed after a moment. "i have made all my wishes known in my will. promise me that you will heed them all, that every one shall be carried out as i have directed," he concluded with impressive earnestness.
"i know you would not ask anything impossible of me, dear friend, so i cheerfully promise," mollie unhesitatingly responded.
"swear it, mademoiselle," said monsieur lamonti, glancing at the prayerbook which lay beside his pillow.
mollie's lips trembled; the scene was becoming very trying to her.
"i will swear if monsieur wishes; but my word would be just as sacred to me as an oath," she said gently.
the man smiled up at her.
"that is enough—i am satisfied," he said, "and mr. ashley here already knows that i trust you implicitly, as i would my own daughter had she lived. now, my child, let me add that you have been a great comfort to me; do not forget in the days to come that you made the last few months of a lonely, almost heart-broken man, much the brighter by your sweet presence, and the highest tribute i can show you is to trust you with my one earthly treasure—my lucille. now, i will not keep you, mademoiselle, adieu, and may the good god forever bless you and yours."
mollie arose. she felt that she could scarcely have borne another word; her throat was almost convulsed, her eyes heavy with unshed tears, and yet she must not weep before him.
she could not speak, but she bent down and left a light caress upon the man's forehead, then swiftly but noiselessly passed from the room.
at the door she turned for one last look at her friend, to find his eyes fastened upon her, and in them a light of peace and gladness that she had never seen in them before. the memory of it never left her. that night monsieur lamonti passed away, and all washington was grieved and shocked to read of it the following day.
