ly.

She drew her chair nearer to him, when he called her by her Christian
name for the first time.

"When Westerfield was courting me," she said, "his brother (my lord) was
a bachelor. A lady--if one can call such a creature a lady!--was living
under his protection. He told Westerfield he was very fond of her, and
he hated the idea of getting married. 'If your wife's first child turns
out to be a son,' he said, 'there is an heir to the title and estates,
and I may go on as I am now.' We were married a month afterward--and
when my first child was born it was a girl. I leave you to judge what
the disappointment was! My lord (persuaded, as I suspect, by the woman
I mentioned just now) ran the risk of waiting another year, and a year
afterward, rather than be married. Through all that time, I had no other
child or prospect of a child. His lordship was fairly driven into
taking a wife. Ah, how I hate her! _Their_ first child was a boy--a
big, bouncing, healthy brute of a boy! And six months afterward, my poor
little fellow was born. Only think of it! And tell me, Jemmy, don't
I deserve to be a happy woman, after suffering such a dreadful
disappointment as that? Is it true that you're going back to America?"

"Quite true."

"Take me back with you."

"With a couple of children?"

"No. Only with one. I can dispose of the other in England. Wait a little
before you say No. Do you want money?"

"You couldn't help me, if I did."

"Marry me, and I can help you to a fortune."

He eyed her attentively and saw that she was in earnest. "What do you
call a fortune?" he asked.

"Five thousand pounds," she answered.

His eyes opened; his mouth opened; he scratched his head. Even his
impenetrable nature proved to be capable of receiving a shock. Five
thousand pounds! He asked faintly for "a drop of brandy."

She had a bottle of brandy ready for him.

"You look quite overcome," she said.

He was too deeply interested in the restorative influence of the brandy
to take any notice of this remark. When he had recovered himself he was
not disposed to believe in the five thousand pounds.

"Where's the proof of it?" he said, sternly.

She produced her husband's letter. "Did you read the Trial of
Westerfield for casting away his ship?" she asked.

"I heard of it."

"Will you look at this letter?"

"Is it long?"

"Yes."

"Then suppose you read it to me."

He listened with the closest attention while she read. The questi