Alone
in the night, Magdalen might dare to be herself again--might dream
of the past, and wake from the dream, encountering no curious eyes
to notice that she was in tears--might ponder over the future, and
be roused by no whisperings in corners, which tainted her with the
suspicion of "having something on her mind."
Satisfied, thus far, of the perfect security of her position in the
house, she profited next by a second chance in her favor, which--before
the fortnight was at an end--relieved her mind of all doubt on the
formidable subject of Mrs. Lecount.
Partly from the accidental gossip of the women at the table in the
servants' hall; partly from a marked paragraph in a Swiss newspaper,
which she had found one morning lying open on the admiral's
easy-chair--she gained the welcome assurance that no danger was to be
dreaded, this time, from the housekeeper's presence on the scene. Mrs.
Lecount had, as it appeared, passed a week or more at St. Crux after the
date of her master's death, and had then left England, to live on the
interest of her legacy, in honorable and prosperous retirement, in
her native place. The paragraph in the Swiss newspaper described
the fulfillment of this laudable project.
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