But she was too loyal-hearted to believe that he had forgotten her, or that he neglected to write. She said to herself that he had never received her letter. “It is some more of Louise’s treachery,” she thought. For two weeks she had not ventured out of her room, but one evening she was so restless she felt that she could bear it no longer. “Florine, you may bring out a dinner dress for me, I shall dine with the family,” she said. “Madame does not mean it--ill as she looks!” disapprovingly. “I am strong enough. It is for you to obey my commands, Florine, not to dictate to me,” Molly answered, with sudden dignity that silenced all remonstrance. Florine brought a pretty white dress and some pearls and dressed her mistress exquisitely. Then she said, apologetically: “It was not that I did not want you to go out, madame, but I feared it would exhaust you, dining with company.” “Is there company?” Molly asked disappointedly. “The Barrys, madame.” “Do they come here often, Florine?” “Do you mean the Barrys, madame?” “Yes.” “They are here every day, or nearly so; and when they fail to come here, Madame Laurens, your mamma, and Monsieur Cecil, your husband, go to them. It is fortunate for monsieur, your husband, that he has such a dear friend as Miss Barry to amuse him while you, madame, are sick,” smoothly. Molly’s heart began to beat loudly, the angry color to flood her cheeks. “She does _not_ amuse him,” she said hotly, and Florine arched her brows in surprise. “As madame wills, but I thought she would be pleased,” she said, apologetically. Molly flung herself down sighing on the sofa. “I will not go down,” she said, sadly, and she owned to herself that she was afraid of Louise. She took a book and read until she was quite sure that the late dinner was over. She, in her character of invalid, had had her own simple meal an hour ago. She called Florine from the dressing-room. “Go and ask Mr. Laurens to give me some piano music. Tell him I will not come out of my room. I can hear quite plainly here.” Florine went out and Molly sank back, sobbing softly. “He will think I am very bold, but, oh, I could not help it. It will take him away from her side at least, and it will make him think of me. But will he grant my request, or treat it with disdain?” Florine came back, smirking. “He will do as you wish, madame.” And almost immediately the soft, full strains of music arose upon the air. Molly lay back upon her sofa listening with blended pleasure and pain. It took her back to that first night at Ferndale when Cecil’s wonderful music had charmed the anger and resentment away from her heart.