An Ambitious Man

"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."