"You are really hideously passee, mon amie," she observed as she
peered at herself searchingly; "but we will remedy all that."
Dipping a soft linen handkerchief in the bowl of steaming milk and
water, she applied it to her face, holding it closely over the brow
and eyes and about the mouth, until every pore was saturated and
every weary drawn tissue fed and strengthened by the tonic. After
this she dashed ice-cold water over her face. Still there were
little folds at the corners of the eyelids, and an ugly line across
the brow, and these were manipulated with painstaking care, and
treated with mysterious oils and fragrant astringents and finally
washed in cool toilet water and lightly brushed with powder, until at
the end of an hour's labour, the face of the Baroness had resumed its
roseleaf bloom and transparent smoothness for which she was so
famous. And when by the closest inspection at the mirror, in the
broadest light, she saw no flaw in skin, hair, or teeth, the Baroness
proceeded to dress for a drive. Even the most jealous rival would
have been obliged to concede that she looked like a woman of twenty-
eight, that most fascinating of all ages, as she took her seat in the
carriage.
In the early days of her life in Beryngford, when as the Baroness Le
Fevre she had led society in the little town, Mrs Lawrence had been
one of her most devoted friends; Judge Lawrence one of her most
earnest, if silent admirers. As "Baroness Brown" and as the landlady
of "The Palace" she had still maintained her position as friend of
the family, and the Lawrences, secure in their wealth and power, had
allowed her to do so, where some of the lower social lights had
dropped her from their visiting lists.
The Baroness seemed to exercise a sort of hypnotic power over the
fretful, nervous invalid who shared Judge Lawrence's name, and this
influence was not wholly lost upon the Judge himself, who never
looked upon the Baroness's abundant charms, glowing with health,
without giving vent to a profound sigh like some hungry child
standing before a confectioner's window.
The news of Mrs Lawrence's dangerous illness was voiced about the
town by noon, and therefore the Baroness felt safe in calling at the
door to make inquiries, and to offer any assistance which she might
be able to render. Knowing her intimate relations with the mistress
of the house, the servant admitted her to the parlour and announced
her presence to Judge Lawrence, who left the bedside of the invalid
to tell the caller in person that Mrs Lawrence had fallen into a
peaceful slumber, and that slight hopes were entertained of her
possible recovery. Scarcely had the words passed his lips, however,
when the nurse in attendance hurriedly called him. "Mrs Lawrence is
dead!" she cried. "She breathed only twice after you left the room."