She is already at the Sacred Heart."
Marie Berard's keen eye sees the plot. An exchange of children.
The nameless child shall be dowered with millions. Her own future
is assured.
"Does any one know of this plan?" the maid eagerly asks.
"Only you and I," is the response.
Ah! Revenge on her stately tyrant lover. The maid dreams of a golden
shower. That snug hotel. It is a delicious moment. "What do you
wish me to do, Madame?" Marie is now cool.
"Find a place, at once, where the child can be well treated in
a 'bourgeois' family. I want you to place her as if she were your
own. I wish no one to ever see me or know of me in this matter."
The maid's eyes sparkle. Fortune's wheel turns. "And I shall be--"
she pauses.
"You may be suspected to be the mother. No one can learn anything
from the child. I wish her to be raised in ignorance."
Madame de Santos is a genius in a quiet way. It is true, the
prattling heiress, on the threshold of a new life, speaks only
Spanish and a little English. She has forgotten her father. Even
now her mother fades from her mind. A few passing months will sweep
away all memories of Lagunitas. The children are nearly the same
age, and not dissimilar.
"And the Judge?" murmurs the servant.
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