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But for Peggy Webster, Yvonne had a peculiar feeling of love and admiration. This may have been partly due to the fact that Peggy was Mrs. Burton's niece and so shared in the glamor of the great lady's personality, but it was more a tribute to Peggy's own character. After Yvonne's pathetic account of her history, Mrs. Burton had told at least a measure of her story to Peggy.
Loath to interrupt so pretty a scene, I waited, aloof, until these adieux should be concluded, and whilst I waited there came to me from the carriage a sweet, musical voice that was not Yvonne's. "May we not learn at least, Monsieur, the name of the gentleman to whose courtesy we are indebted for having spent the past two hours without discomfort?"
Fuselli had pushed himself in behind a big hogshead that had a pleasant tang of old wood damp with sour wine. At last the heads of the shadows on the cobbles came together for a moment and the cousin clattered across the court and out into the empty streets. Her rapid footsteps died away. Yvonne's shadow was still in the door: "Dan," she said softly.
Benton, a few months later, was sentenced to forced labour for fifteen years, while his accomplice, Molly Bond, received a sentence of ten years. Only one case that of jewel robbery was, however, proved against her. Dorise, about six weeks after Mademoiselle Yvonne's explanation, met her in London, and there she and Hugh became reconciled.
He had nearly reached his destination; just before him the path entered a patch of pine woods and emerged from it, shortly, upon the flat-topped rock which he was seeking. Under the first arching branches he stopped and looked back at the marred moon in the mist-covered sky. "I am sick of this wandering," he thought. "Wane quickly! Your successor shall shine on my home: Yvonne's and mine."
He was painting Yvonne's portrait, as Flamby had pointed out to Chauvin when Chauvin had uttered veiled warnings against his neighbour. "I know, my dear kid," Chauvin had replied, peering over his horn-rimmed spectacles; "but Mrs. Paul Mario can walk in where angels fear to tread. She is Mrs. Paul Mario, my dear kid, and if Mr. Paul Mario approves it is nobody else's business.
Ay, truly enough, it was because in my heart I had dared to hold a sentiment of love for her, the purest nay, the only pure thing my heart had held for many a year, that I would set nothing vile to keep company with that sentiment; that until my sun should set and already it dropped swiftly towards life's horizon my actions should be the actions of such a man as might win Yvonne's affections.
My poor daughter-in-law, at Yvonne's age, was a bleating baby: she is so still, at times. The convent doesn't develop character. I'm glad Yvonne was not brought up in a convent." And this champion of tradition smiled on me more intensely.
She understood that the French officer would be overjoyed if Yvonne should prove to be his sister, but Sally herself would have felt no enthusiasm over the same discovery. As a matter of fact, she had no particular interest in Yvonne's opportunity for happiness through her aid.
Therefore you may rest assured, Howell, that the hand that fired the shot was that of some person who desired to close Yvonne's mouth." "She might have held some secret concerning old Cataldi. Or, on his part, he might have cherished some grievance against her. Italians are usually very vindictive," replied the visitor.
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