Heatherford had borne during his more prosperous days; and now the future began to look very bright to him once more.

As the season advanced and distinguished people began to flock to the capital, he met many a former acquaintance, and thus it came about that both Mollie and her father were gradually drawn into society again.

When Mollie began to accept these courtesies and take her place once more in social life, she insisted that her engagement should be publicly announced, and so, of course, Clifford was always thereafter included in all invitations.

He was looking forward to a much brighter prospect in life after the first of January than he had dared to antic.i.p.ate for himself thus early in his career, and it was arranged that his marriage should occur as soon as he was well settled in his new enterprise; meantime, as he was becoming quite a favorite in social circles, the young couple gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the present.

One evening, at a brilliant reception given by a distinguished senator, Mr. Heatherford and Mollie unexpectedly encountered Mr. and Mrs. Temple and Philip Wentworth, the family having come to Washington again for the winter. Mr. Temple had again become interested in politics during the last year or two, and had been elected a member of the House of Representatives, and was ambitious for still higher honors.

The meeting between Mr. Heatherford and Mr. Temple was somewhat startling to both gentlemen, especially so to the latter, since he believed the former to be still a hopeless paralytic, if, indeed, he were yet on the earth. They met in the great hall of the mansion where they were guests.

A slight smile of contempt flitted over Mr. Heatherford's face as he said: "Ah! Temple; so we meet again!"

"My G.o.d! Heatherford!" gasped the man who had so bitterly wronged him under the guise of friendship; and he was colorless even to his lips.

"Yes; you were not expecting to meet me again--here," returned Mr.

Heatherford.

"It--it is a miracle! Who was your doctor?" panted the false friend, scarce knowing what he said.

"G.o.d," briefly but reverently responded Heatherford. Then, with a courtly but distant bow, he added: "Excuse me; I am looking for my daughter."

He pa.s.sed on, leaving the other still staring blankly after him, and actually trembling, as if he had suddenly encountered a ghost of the past--as, indeed, he had.

Later in the evening Mollie found herself standing almost side by side with Philip Wentworth. She was richly and beautifully clad. Her dress was a gauzelike material of black, made over a very light-gray satin that gleamed like silver underneath. The tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs were all of silver, and a diamond spray, with a silver aigrette, gleamed in her hair.

The corsage of her robe was cut modestly low, and the full, puffed sleeves were short, thus revealing her perfect arms and neck, which were like chiseled marble. It was a strikingly effective costume, and just suited her, for it threw out the fairness of her faultless complexion to great advantage.

She gave a slight start as she caught Philip's voice and realized his proximity, but did not glance at him. She turned slightly away, and was about to address a lady whom she knew; but before she could do so, Philip stepped directly in front of her, determined that he would not be ignored.

"You have told me never to speak to you again--that we are strangers,"

he began in a low tone that was husky with emotion; "cannot you forgive and forget? I have suffered bitterly for my folly of that night--I have repented in sackcloth and ashes."

Not a muscle of Mollie's face moved during his speech. She stood and looked like a statue--beautiful as a young G.o.ddess--but cold as snow, and a feeling of bitter remorse--of utter despair crept over him as he realized how he had lowered himself in her estimation and lost all chance of ever winning her.

Since learning of Mr. Lamonti's will and that Mollie had now an independent fortune, and would once more take an enviable position in society, he had cursed himself a thousand times for his past folly.

While he was speaking Mollie was wondering how she could escape him without replying to him and without making herself conspicuous.

There was an awkward pause for a moment after he concluded; then Mollie's quick ear caught the voice of her hostess, who was just behind her, remarking:

"No, I have not seen Mr. Wentworth since he first entered the room; but I am sure he is still here."

Mollie turned gracefully toward the speaker, thus revealing Philip to her.

"You were inquiring for Mr. Wentworth, Mrs. Blackman," she observed, with a charming smile. "Behold him just at hand!"

Then, with a bow to the lady, she slipped away, leaving Philip in a white heat of rage and disappointment over having failed to win even a glance of recognition from her.

But Mollie escaped Philip only to run almost into the arms of Mrs.

Temple, who also had already arrived at the conclusion that the girl's acquaintance was worth cultivating again. Mollie Heatherford, with a handsome fortune in her own right, was an entirely different person from the poverty-stricken private secretary of a year ago. She extended her hand with a beaming smile, and greeted her with much of her former maternal fondness.

Mollie's quiet "good evening, Mrs. Temple," together with the ceremonious touch of her finger-tips, was something of a facer; but the shrewd woman of the world was not one to easily relinquish a project, and she continued in her most cordial tone:

"Really, Mollie, it seems like old times to meet you in society again; and what a romantic experience you have had! I a.s.sure you, no one could be more delighted than we were when we learned of your good fortune. Are you back in the Lamonti house again this season?"

"Yes," Mollie briefly replied.

"I understand that it is very elegant--that Mr. Lamonti was exceedingly refined in his tastes, and made his home a perfect gem," Mrs. Temple continued, and determined to trap Mollie into asking her to call if it were possible.

"Yes," the fair girl again composedly replied, "Monsieur Lamonti spared no expense to make his home attractive, and took great pride and pleasure in gathering treasures from all parts of the world to beautify it."

"I have been told that many of the paintings are from the hands of the best masters," pursued her inquisitor.

"That is true."

"Do you ever entertain as you used to in the old days in New York, Mollie?"

"We have not as yet; it is quite early in the season, you know," said Mollie, and barely able to suppress a smile as she saw the drift of these questions; "but papa and I were talking the matter over recently, and I think we may have a regular reception evening later on."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Temple eagerly; "then you will be well launched upon the sea of Washington society, and if at any time you should feel the need of some one to matronize your affairs, you will know where to come, dear," she concluded, with her most affable smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Temple."

"And I wish you would drop in upon us occasionally," the lady went on appealingly, but flushing slightly over the failure of her scheme. "We were all very fond of you always, Mollie, and Minnie would be delighted to see her old friend."

"Yes, Minnie and I were close friends; give my love to the dear child,"

Mollie replied, with more of heartiness than she had yet expressed.

Then, catching sight of Mr. Heatherford, she added: "Excuse me, but I see papa looking for me. Good-night, Mrs. Temple."

And with a graceful inclination of her bright head she glided away. Mrs.

Temple's face was a study as she watched the slight, perfect figure move down the room. She had been utterly baffled, and she was filled with mingled disappointment and mortification.

"Mollie is very shrewd, with all her sweetness," she muttered, with a frown; "she can hold her own anywhere, and we have all made a grand mistake."

CHAPTER XIII.

AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY.

"Waal, squire, I reckon everything is done now to the turn of the key.

I've packed a dozen shirts, and, if I do say it, no Chang w.a.n.g could have put a better shine on 'em than I've given 'em. There's two dozen pocket-handkerchiefs, as white as snow; collars and cuffs to last a month, if you're careful; and everything else all in shipshape. Now I'll have lunch for you in about ten minutes, and that'll give you plenty of time to catch the train."

So spoke Maria Kimberly, as she stood in the doorway leading from the kitchen into the dining-room, where Squire Talford was sitting at his desk filling out some checks to settle his monthly bills. He was on the point of starting for Washington, whither he was going on business connected with some patents in which he had recently become interested, and which would keep him away from home for about six weeks or two months.

"All right, Maria. I'm about through; but what are you going to do with yourself while I'm gone?" the man responded, but without looking up from his employment.