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"He would not have done that," said Dorothy, with troubled, angry blue eyes on her face. "He would have thought of others. He never changed the knife, Madelon Hautville!" "I know nothing about the knife," repeated Madelon, "but Burr Gordon did not kill his cousin." "He was there, and it was his knife," said Dorothy. There was now a curious indignation in her manner.
She had come to think later that she had perhaps been mistaken, for never had Eugene made other advances to her than by those ardent glances; and Burr had come, and she had turned to him, and thought of Eugene Hautville only when he crossed her way, and then with a mixture of pique and shame.
However, when Eugene Hautville drew near, there was a slight shuffling stir; a drawling hum of conversation ceased, and when he entered the store their eyes followed him, bright with furtive attention. The mill of gossip had ground slowly in this heavy spring atmosphere, but it had ground steadily. They had been discussing Madelon Hautville and the breaking off of her marriage with Lot Gordon.
The spirit of resistance was laid for the time in this poor Madelon Hautville, but it had yielded, after all, more to the will of her own reason than to Jim Otis's mother or the weariness of her own flesh. When Mrs. Otis came down-stairs she was flushed with pleasant motherly victory.
The young women got out their summer muslins, and trimmed their bonnets anew; their faces, all unknown to themselves, took on a new meaning of the spring, like new flowers, and the young men looked after them as they passed as if they were strangers in the village. On the afternoon of Wednesday, in the first week of May, Eugene Hautville strolled across-lots over to the village.
"Oh, quit fooling!" said he, impatiently. "What's going to be done?" "Nothing can be done; we shall have to give the ball up for to-night unless you can get Madelon Hautville to lilt for the dancing," returned one, and the other nodded assent. "That's the state of the case," said he. Burr scraped a foot impatiently on the waxed floor. "Go and ask her yourself, Daniel Plympton," said he.
So Lady Carruthers, who loved home very dearly, gave up its peaceful tranquillity, and went with Basil and Miss Hautville to Paris, where they remained some months until they saw all that was most brilliant in that brilliant capital; from there to Berlin; then on to Vienna, and Basil lost much of his dreamy nature.
"I thought maybe the Widow Scoville would be willing to come here and live," said she. "She's a good cook and a good housekeeper. I'm going to see her about it." "Well, we'll see," said David Hautville, huskily "we'll see."
There was more to be done her son had been presented at most of the courts of Europe; he must attend the first levees held in London this season. The Carruthers had a magnificent mansion in Belgravia. Miss Hautville begged for one year more of seclusion and privacy, so that Lady Hildegarde and her son went to London alone.
They could not have any dance unless Madelon Hautville would sing for it, and both Daniel Plympton and Burr Gordon were determined not to ask her. At half-past seven Madelon was all dressed for the ball, and neither of them had come to see her about it. She and all her brothers except Louis were going. They wondered who would play for the dancing, but supposed some arrangements would be made.
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