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Updated: June 3, 2025
"An old person without a card, Mr. Joles," he confided to that individual below stairs; "name Barkwick or something, says he has an appointment. Quite genteel, but " and he shrugged his shoulders significantly. Joles made no reply, but went up to interview Mr. "Barkwick." Herr Von Barwig was standing in the reception-room, hat in hand, when Joles entered. "No card, eh? Ah um dear me," and Mr.
"He can have told her nothing," he muttered, "he must be as ignorant of the truth as she is. Good God, what a coincidence!" Joles came and Ditson was sent for. When the confidential secretary arrived, Mr. Stanton and he went into the private study. Hélène followed them. "Will you need me any more, father?" she asked anxiously. "No, no!" replied Mr. Stanton. Hélène went out and closed the door.
Joles appear to think it at all curious that young Mr. Cruger should happen to be in the hallway just as the music master came in at the door. His face displayed no emotion whatever when that young gentleman came forward and led the old man upstairs to Miss Stanton's room. Neither Mr. Cruger nor the music master saw the pale face of Mr.
At that moment Joles entered the room with a message for Miss Stanton. "Put it down, Joles," she said, striking a note here and there on the piano. "It's a telegram, miss." "Oh! bring it to me, then." He obeyed. She opened it and read: "Left Paris this morning en route to New York. A feeling of dread crept over her; the smile on her face gave way to a hardness of expression.
Was it Dresden?" he asked himself, as if annoyed that his memory had played him false. "It must have been Dresden or Leipsic." "Herr Von Barwig," announced Joles, in his most formal and freezing manner. Poor old Von Barwig came into the room expecting to see no one but Hélène, and was painfully astounded to see so many strangers.
"But it is over and done now, so why punish any one?" began Von Barwig. Hélène shook her head. "It hasn't begun yet," she said, ringing the bell. Denning answered it. "Send Joles please," she said. Denning bowed and a little later Joles appeared. "Herr Von Barwig, my music master, will be here at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. You will please admit him at once."
So when, for the third successive time, in as many days, Joles informed him that Miss Stanton was not at home, Von Barwig experienced a feeling of disappointment accompanied by a sense of fear. "She Miss Stanton is well?" faltered he to the dignified Mr. Joles, who was regarding him with a haughty expression, not unaccompanied with disdain.
Stanton kissed her coldly and Hélène drew back. It was an instinctive repulsion and she could not help showing it; he, on his part, appeared not to notice it. "I will inquire into the matter of your letters being tampered with," he said, "although I am confident that you will find that you are labouring under some mistake. Joles is as honest as the day. What could be his motive?"
Right under my own roof!" muttered Stanton, "and with her! Oh, God!" "I rang for him, father," said Hélène, looking at him anxiously. "It's Ditson I want to see. Ditson, Ditson! not Joles." Then he added quickly, "No, I don't want to see any one! I'm better now; these attacks pass away quickly. Sit down, my dear child; I want to talk to you.
Joles is for me an angel, the archangel that unlocks for me paradise, you will realise to what extent I separate this world of love, of joy, of happiness, the world over which you preside, from the outside world, where together come music and bricks and human misery. Here is my heaven, my haven of rest and sweet contentment. Shall I take money for it; shall I be paid for my happiness?
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