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Updated: May 2, 2025
"That would be a pity," George said, with a startled glance back at the girl. "Good-by, my dear!" Mrs. Waldeaux leaned over the bulwark. "She is beautiful as an angel! Good-by, Lucy! God bless you!" she sobbed, kissing her hand. Mr. Waldeaux looked steadily at Lucy. "How clean she is!" he said. When the shore was gone he walked down the deck, conscious of a sudden change in himself.
Waldeaux, had succumbed to her peculiar charm, which was only that of a woman past her youth who had strong personal magnetism and not a spark of coquetry. George's friends all were sure that they would fall in love with a woman just like her but not a man of them ever thought of falling in love with her.
But now, as they crossed the gangway, she looked up at him with eyes that for the moment were honest and true as a child's, and her firm hand suddenly trembled in his. Three weeks later Mrs. Waldeaux came into Miss Vance's little parlor on Half Moon Street. Her face was red from the wind, her eyes sparkled, and she hummed some gay air which an organ ground outside. Clara laid down her pen.
"What is it? You have heard bad news?" "I suppose we ought not to call it that. It is from George Waldeaux. They have a son, two months old. He tells it as a matter for rejoicing." "Oh, yes," said Lucy feebly. "They are at Vannes in Brittany. He has a cough. He seems to know nobody to have no friends, and, I suspect, not much money. He is terribly depressed." Clara folded the letter thoughtfully.
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