Flower and Jewel; or, Daisy Forrest's DaughterMiller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
Philosophy
Flower and Jewel; or, Daisy Forrest's Daughter
Miller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
Gothic fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction; Sisters -- Fiction
"That is very magnanimous of you, Jewel," he replied, admiringly.
"Do as you please, only let our young friend here understand that at
another such offense she must go."
"Monsieur, I will never do so again!" whimpered Marie again; and she
dropped into a mocking courtesy, and followed her mistress up the
stairs.
Jewel was trembling with indefinable fear, but she turned boldly on the
delinquent maid.
"Now, Marie, if there is anything you can plead in your own defense, do
so quickly," she said, sharply.
Marie faced her with an impudent smile bold and taunting.
"Mademoiselle, you dare not discharge me," she replied, coolly.
"Dare not!" Jewel echoed.
"That was what I said," replied the French maid, calmly. "I repeat it.
You dare not discharge me, for it would be dangerous to send away the
trusty maid who shares your fatal secret."
She saw horror and consternation on the dark, beautiful face. It grew
pale as marble, and the eyes dilated in horror.
"Ah, you understand me!" Marie said. "I confess it was naughty in me
to play ghost, but then I thought you ought to be punished a little
for that terrible deed. She was young and lovely, the girl you killed
and flung into the cellar. You see I know all, Miss Fielding, for I
watched, and I saw you dragging her down the steps."
"I deny it all!" Jewel gasped, feebly; but Marie laughed her to scorn.
"You deny it, with your victim lying down there under the water in the
cellar!"
Jewel saw that denial would be useless.
"Oh, Marie, I did not kill her," she gasped, feebly. "She was weak and
sick; she fell down dead in my room, most probably with heart disease.
I was frightened. I thought I might be accused of murder, so I hid the
body."
"A very unwise thing to do, as you would not get any one to believe
that story, especially if I showed them this," replied Marie, drawing
from her pocket the piece of bronze bric-a-brac, and showing Jewel a
dull red stain on its brightness.
She shuddered, and asked:
"Why have you kept the secret so long?"
"To forward my own interests," Marie answered, promptly. "You will
retain me in your service as long as I choose to remain, and you will
raise my wages to three hundred dollars per month. I think that is
very reasonable, considering everything; and, besides, you ought to be
very grateful to me for keeping your awful secret."
Jewel knew that this was quite true. She would have sacrificed her
whole fortune rather than that her guilty secret should be betrayed.
"Does any one else know?" she asked.
"I have never opened my lips," Marie replied, truthfully; and Jewel
very gladly consented to the terms of her silence.
She went to her lover, and the full glass of wine she had taken was not
sufficient to steady her nerves. She trembled like one with a chill,
and he begged her to remain at home, declaring that the shock she had
received made her look too ill to go to the entertainment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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