"I do not desire any remuneration, sir," said the kind-hearted woman. "I will take my forty pounds; but the other two notes I must beg to return."
"No—keep them," exclaimed Greenwood.
"I thank you, sir, most sincerely," said the servant firmly; "but I would rather not. I rendered Miss Monroe that service which one female should afford another in such a case; and I cannot think of accepting any recompense."
With these words she laid two of the notes upon the table.
"You are really a most extraordinary woman," cried Greenwood, who was perfectly astonished at the idea of any one in her class of life refusing money. "Will you not permit me to offer you a ring—a watch—or some trinket—"
"No, sir," replied Marian, with severe firmness of tone and manner. "Miss Monroe is so kind—so good—so gentle, I would go to the end of the world to serve her."
"Well—you must have your own way," said Mr. Greenwood. "The next point in Miss Monroe's letter is a provision for her child. What sum do you suppose would content the surgeon and his wife who have taken care of it?"
"They are poor people, sir—struggling against difficulties—and having their way to make in the world—"
"Suppose we say forty pounds a year for the present," interrupted Greenwood.
"Oh! sir—that will be ample!" exclaimed Marian: "and Miss Monroe will be so rejoiced! Ah! sir—what consolation to the poor young lady!"
"What is the address of the surgeon?" demanded Greenwood.
"Mr. Wentworth, Lower Holloway," was the reply.
"My servant shall call upon that gentleman this very evening, and carry him the first quarter's payment," continued Greenwood. "You can say to Miss Monroe—but stay: I will write her a few lines."
"Oh! do, sir. Who knows but it may console her?" ejaculated the kind-hearted Marian.
Mr. Greenwood wrote as follows:—
"Your wishes are attended to in every point. The existence of the child need never be known to either Mr. Monroe or Mr. Richard Markham. Keep faithfully all the secrets which are treasured in your bosom; and I will never desert the child. I will watch over its welfare from a distance: trust to me. You were wrong to hesitate to apply to me. My purse is at all times at your disposal—so long as those secrets remain undivulged.
"G. M. G."
Marian, prompted by that inherently kind feeling which had influenced her entire conduct towards Ellen, hesitated for a few moments, after receiving this letter, and seemed anxious to speak. She would have pleaded in behalf of the young mother: she would have implored Greenwood to make her his own in the sight of heaven, and acknowledge their child. But her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth;—and she at length retired, unable to give utterance to a single word in favour of poor Ellen.
As soon as she was gone, Greenwood rang for his faithful French valet.
"Lafleur," said he, "you will take these ten pounds, and proceed without delay to the house of Mr. Wentworth, a surgeon residing in Lower Holloway. You will say to him, 'The father of the child which was entrusted to you last night in so mysterious a manner, will allow you forty pounds a year for its support. As it grows older, and the expenses it incurs augment, this allowance will be proportionately increased. But should you endeavour to find out who are the parents of that child, it will instantly be removed to the care of others who may possess less curious dispositions.'—You will pay him those ten pounds: you will tell him that every three months you will call with a similar sum; and you will see the child. Remember, you will see the child. If it have any peculiar mark about it, notice that mark: at all events, study it well, that you may know it again. You will moreover direct that its Christian name be Richard: its surname is immaterial. In a word, you will neither say nor do a whit more nor less than I have told you."
"I understand, sir," answered Lafleur. "Any further commands?"
"No—not at present. Be cautious how you conduct this business. It is delicate."
"You may depend upon me, sir."
And Lafleur retired.
"Thus far it is well," said Greenwood to himself, when he was again alone. "I am relieved of a subject of frequent annoying reflection and suspense. Ellen's shame is unknown to those from whom I was most anxious it should be concealed. It can never transpire now!"
The clock struck six; and Mr. Greenwood repaired to his dressing-room to arrange his toilet for dinner.
CHAPTER LXXX.
THE REVELATION.
THAT same evening Mr. Chichester dined with his friend Sir Rupert Harborough, at the dwelling of the latter in Tavistock Square.
Whenever her husband invited this guest, Lady Cecilia invariably made it a rule to accept an invitation elsewhere.
The baronet and his friend were therefore alone together.
"This is awkward—very awkward," said Chichester, when the cloth was removed, and the two gentlemen were occupied with their wine.
"Awkward! I believe you," exclaimed the baronet. "Upon my honour, that Greenwood ought to be well thrashed!"
"He is an insufferable coxcomb," said Chichester.
"A conceited humbug," added the baronet.
"A self-sufficient fool," remarked Chichester.
"A consummate scoundrel," cried Sir Rupert.
"So he is," observed Chichester.
"But all this will not pay my bill," continued the baronet; "and where to obtain six hundred pounds, the deuce take me if I can tell."
"No—nor I either," said Chichester; "unless we get a couple of horses and ride down towards Hounslow upon a venture."
"You never can be serious, Chichester? What! turn highwaymen!"
"I was only joking. But do you really think that Greenwood will press you so hard?"
"He will send the bill to Lord Tremordyn's banker's to-morrow. Oh! I can assure you he was quite high about it, and pretended to forget all the circumstances that had led to the transaction. To every word I said, it was 'I don't recollect.' May the devil take him!"
"And so he has got you completely in his power?"
"Completely."
"And you would like to have your revenge?"
"Of course I should. But what is the use of talking in this manner? You know very well that I can do him no injury!"
"I am not quite so sure of that," said Chichester.
"What do you mean?" demanded the baronet. "I can see that there is something in your mind."
"I was only thinking. Suppose we accused him of something that he would not like exposed, and could not very well refute—an intrigue with any particular lady, for instance—"
"Ah! if we could—even though it were with my own wife," exclaimed the baronet. "And, by the bye, he is very intimate with Lady Cecilia."
"Of course he is," said Chichester drily. "Have you never noticed that before."
"It never struck me until now," observed the baronet.
"But it has struck me—frequently," added Chichester.
"And when I think of it," continued Sir Rupert Harborough, "he has