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Updated: June 2, 2025
It was as though they had been sheltering a royal eagle that was used to dwelling in sunlit heights unknown to them, and now they were left on flat ground to consort with common poultry. Miss Vance led her party slowly through Scotland and down again to London. Mrs. Waldeaux went with them.
I am not deaf nor blind," she said earnestly. "I am not old. I find more fun and flavor in life now than I did at sixteen. If I live to be seventy, or a hundred, I shall be the same Frances Waldeaux still." Clara gave an annoyed shrug. "But really, I make the thought of death my constant companion. And you are older than I." "'After the busy day Comes the calm sleep of night,"
What folly was this? It was the work of a moment. George would be free. She would have freed him. In God's name then She crossed the hall softly. Into the hell of her thoughts flashed a little womanish shame, that she, Frances Waldeaux, should be walking on tiptoe, like a thief. She took down the package, and leaning over the table at the side of the bed, shook the white powder into the glass.
"Very proper in the captain," said George complacently. "You see, Madam Waldeaux, even the men who go down in ships have heard of you and your family!" "I don't believe the captain ever heard of me," she said, after a grave consideration, "nor of the Waldeaux. It is much more likely that he has read your article in the Quarterly, George." "Nonsense!" But he stiffened himself up consciously.
"We are going to be vagabonds, and have no plans. Mother's soul draws us to York Cathedral, and mine to the National Gallery. That is all we know." "I thought you had given up that whim of being an artist?" said Miss Vance, sharply facing on him. Young Waldeaux reddened. "Yes, I have given it up. I know as well as you do that I have no talent.
"Somebody says there is a possible vice in the purest soul, and it may lie perdu there until old age. But it will break out some day." Mrs. Waldeaux looked, laughing, at the eager, blushing faces around her. "It is not likely to break out in us, girls, eh! Really, Clara," she said, in a lower tone, "that seems to me like wasted morality.
Then she remembered that Lisa was with him. She would nurse him. She called a cab, and, as she drove home, looked out at the crowd with a hard, smiling face. Henry Irving that night played "Shylock," and Mr. Perry secured a box for Miss Vance. Frances went with the others. Before the curtain rose there was a startled movement among them, a whisper, and then Clara turned to Mrs. Waldeaux.
"George said to-morrow. Can it not wait until to-morrow?" "No. What is to do do it! That is my motto. George, come here! Tell your mother what we have decided. Oh, very well, if you prefer that I should speak. We go to Paris at once, Mrs. Waldeaux, and will take apartments there. You will remain with Miss Vance." "Yes, I know.
On the last day of the voyage the breeze was from land, and with the first breath of it Frances found her vigor suddenly return. She rose and dressed herself. George had not been near her that day. "He must be very ill," she thought, and hurried out. "Is Mr. Waldeaux in his stateroom?" she asked the steward. "No, madam. He is on deck. All the passengers are on deck," the man added, smiling.
It made him comfortable for a few hours, then he began to cry and swear. George Waldeaux had never been drunk in his life. The ascetic, stainless priest in him stood off and looked at this dog of the gutter with his obscene talk, and then came defeat of soul and body. "I give up!" he said quietly. "I'll never try again."
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