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Updated: May 3, 2025
Waldeaux's mare had jogged on leisurely, dragging her mistress and Miss Vance home through the shady country lanes. "Phebe is old," apologized Frances. "She really is a retired car horse." "You used to take pride in your horses, Frances?" "Yes." Mrs. Waldeaux added after a pause. "My income is small. Of course George soon will be coining money, but just now The peach crop failed this year too.
They sent the girls to Bryn Mawr last week and turned her adrift, almost penniless. She wished to go back to France. I engaged her as assistant chaperone for the season." Mrs. Waldeaux's eyebrows went up significantly. She never commented in words on the affairs of others, but her face always was indiscreet. George, who had come up in time to hear the last words, was not so scrupulous.
I reminded her of the old adage, 'Never put all of your eggs into one basket." "But that is so sound a basket, George!" "Yes. It is thought so," with a shrug. "Poor child! She needs a guardian to advise her." Waldeaux's countenance grew black. "She should employ an attorney. It certainly will never be my duty to advise Miss Dunbar," he retorted irritably.
By virtue of her relationship she knew, too, all of Mrs. Waldeaux's secrets. It was most unfortunate that she should have chosen to sail on this vessel. "Well, mother," George said, uneasy to get away, "no doubt Miss Vance is right. We should set things in order. I am going now to give my letter of credit to the purser to lock up; shall I take yours?" Mrs. Waldeaux did not reply at once.
To watch a long line of your descendants at work, to see in them your own thoughts and your own soul reaching out, live powers through all eternity I often think of it. That will be not calm nor sleep." Miss Vance touched Mrs. Waldeaux's arm affectionately. "What a queer idea, Frances. Well, I never argue, you know. Drop in the harness, if you choose. Let us go in now. It is chilly."
"Frances, Lisa is coming into the opposite box," she said. "She is really a beautiful woman in that decollete gown, and her cheeks flushed, and her eyes I had no idea! She is superb!" Two men in the dress of French officers entered the box with Lisa. They seated her, bending over her with an empressement which, to Mrs. Waldeaux's heated fancy, was insulting.
She glanced at Miss Vance, well pleased that she should see the lad's foolish fondness for her. George forced a smile. He looked worn and jaded. Miss Vance noticed that his usually neat cravat was awry and his hands were gloveless. "Yes," he said. "It is a little church. The oldest in London. I want to show it to you." Miss Vance tied on Mrs. Waldeaux's bonnet, smoothing her hair affectionately.
"You would not let me touch the child, if you knew it." She stooped and spoke a few sentences in a vehement whisper, and then leaned back, exhausted, against the wall. Lisa drew back. Her lips were white with sudden fright, but she scanned Mrs. Waldeaux's face keenly. "You were in Vannes last night? You tried My God, I remember! The tisane tasted queerly, and I threw it out."
"Oh, yes! all of the time. I have seen whole tracts of pictures, and no end of palaces and hotels hotels hotels!" Frances said, awakening to the necessity of being talkative and vivacious with the young girl. She threw off her cloak. There was a rip in the fur, and the dirty lining hung out. Lucy shuddered. Mrs. Waldeaux's blood must have turned to water, or she would never have permitted that!
But she knew that Robert Waldeaux's son would be safer in the pulpit. He could take rank with scholars there, too. She inspected him now anxiously, trying to see him with the eyes of these Oxford magnates. Nobody would guess that he was only twenty-two.
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