A pause of blissful silence followed this assurance. It was broken by a little exclamation from Ethel. "Oh, dear," she said, "how selfishly thoughtless my happiness makes me! I have forgotten to tell you, until this moment, that I have a letter from Dora. It was sent to grandmother's care, and I got it this afternoon; also one from Lucy Rawdon. The two together bring Dora's affairs, I should say, to a pleasanter termination than we could have hoped for."
"Where is the Enchantress?"
"In Paris at present."
"I expected that answer."
"But listen, she is living the quietest of lives; the most devoted daughter cannot excel her."
"Is she her own authority for that astonishing statement? Do you believe it?"
"Yes, under the circumstances. Mr. Denning went to Paris for a critical and painful operation, and Dora is giving all her love and time toward making his convalescence as pleasant as it can be. In fact, her description of their life in the pretty chateau they have rented outside of Paris is quite idyllic. When her father is able to travel they are going to Algiers for the winter, and will return to New York about next May. Dora says she never intends to leave America again."
"Where is her husband? Keeping watch on the French chateau?"
"That is over. Mr. Denning persuaded Dora to write a statement of all the facts concerning the birth of the child. She told her husband the name under which they traveled, the names of the ship, the captain, and the ship's doctor, and Mrs. Denning authenticated the statement; but, oh, what a mean, suspicious creature Mostyn is!"
"What makes you reiterate that description of him?"
"He was quite unable to see any good or kind intent in this paper. He proved its correctness, and then wrote Mr. Denning a very contemptible letter."
"Which was characteristic enough. What did he say?"
"That the amende honorable was too late; that he supposed Dora wished to have the divorce proceedings stopped and be reinstated as his wife, but he desired the whole Denning family to understand that was now impossible; he was 'fervently, feverishly awaiting his freedom, which he expected at any hour.' He said it was 'sickening to remember the weariness of body and soul Dora had given him about a non-existing child, and though this could never be atoned for, he did think he ought to be refunded the money Dora's contemptible revenge had cost him."'