Young Mme. Malet had retired to put her child to bed, but when
Cecile entered she too came back to the room.
Had anyone had time at such a moment to particularly notice this
young woman, they would have seen that her face now alone of all that
group retained its pain. Such happiness beamed on every other face
that the little cloud on hers must have been observed, though she
tried hard to hide it.
As she came into the room now, her husband came forward and put his
arm round her waist.
"You are just in time, Suzanne," he said; the English lady is going
to tell the story of the purse, and you shall translate it to the
mother and me."
"Yes, Cecile," said Miss Smith, taking the little girl's hand and
seating her by her side, "if I had been the shrewd old English body I
am, you would never have seen your purse again; but here it is at
last, and I am not sorry to part with it."
Here Miss Smith laid the Russia-leather purse on the table by
Cecile's side.
At sight of this old-fashioned and worn purse, young Mme. Malet
started so violently that her husband said: "What ails thee, dear
heart?"
With a strong effort she controlled herself, and with her hands
locked tightly together, with a tension that surely meant pain.
"The day before yesterday," continued Miss Smith, "I was sitting
in my little parlor, in the very house where you found me out, Cecile;
I was sitting there and, strange to say, thinking of you, and of
the purse of gold you intrusted to me, a perfect stranger, when
there came a ring to my hall door.
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