“Ah, I have lived with so many fine ladies, I know their ways. It might be only a coincidence, but why did she send me away tonight? Why was she so anxious I should go to the theater?” “Hush! No more!” he said, hoarsely, and Florine bowed mockingly. “You believe, then, Florine, that her note was a blind, and that she sailed tonight for America?” “Undoubtedly, monsieur.” “Great heavens! I wish you had warned me!” he exclaimed. “I thought you would be glad to be rid of an unloved wife,” low and tauntingly. “Go!” he said, threateningly; then as suddenly recalled her. “This scandal must be kept a secret,” he said. “The servants even must not know. The price of your silence?” sternly. “I am incapable of telling; but if fifty pounds--” she began. “My check shall be yours tomorrow, so that you may be sure to hold your tongue,” he said, taking Molly’s note, and turning away to seek counsel with his parents. They had just come in from some fashionable revel, and recoiled in alarm at his haggard, agitated looks. When he had told them all, they declared that Florine was doubtless in the right. The letter had been a blind to keep him in London while Molly fled to America to join John Keith. “She has loved him all the time, and she has found out that your wealth will not console her for his loss,” Mrs. Laurens said, bitterly. “As to her having English relations, that is all bosh, of course,” said Cecil’s father. “If she had had them, we should have heard of them before.” No one had ever thought of Sir Edward Trueheart in connection with poor Molly. No one had ever credited her with having respectable relations. “I shall follow her by the next steamer, and let John Keith beware if I find him in company with my faithless wife!” Cecil Laurens exclaimed, furiously. He kept his word; but, as no steamer sailed for a week, he was detained in London six days longer. So that, when he went, at last, his parents and sisters went with him, as had already been arranged. Doctor Laurens alone of the family remained behind. A bitter note from Cecil and a letter from his mother had duly informed him of Molly’s flight. The noble, honest young physician was amazed, dumfounded. “How could she do it? I thought she loved him,” he said, but then remembering all Molly’s treachery in the past he was fain to believe what they said of her now. “I was deceived in her. Her beauty and her apparent guilelessness led my judgment astray,” he decided, and a great indignation took possession of his mind against the girl whose part he had taken so nobly. He wrote to his brother that she had not been worthy of his love, and that the only thing he could do now was to cast her from his heart. Louise Barry said the same thing when they confided to her the secret of Molly’s flight.