Then she left the room.

A few minutes elapsed, and then a pale, dark-haired woman, with a pitiful, almost imploring aspect, entered the room, clasped her hands tightly together, and stood gazing in Richard's Pellet's face.

"I'm going to take you away from here, Ellen," he said.

For a few moments the pale face lit up as with some show of animation; the woman exclaimed--"To see my child, Richard?"

"I'm going to take you away from here," he replied, coldly; "so be ready to-morrow."

The light faded from the countenance of the woman in an instant, to leave it dull and inanimate. She pressed her hand for an instant upon her side, and winced as if a pain had shot through her. Then slowly drawing a sc.r.a.p of needlework from her pocket, she began to sew hastily.

"I have made arrangements for you to stay at an inst.i.tution where you will be well cared for," he continued; "that is, provided that you behave well."

The faint shadow of a sad smile crossed the pale face as the woman glanced at him for a moment, and then sighed and looked down.

"Do you hear what I say?" said Richard, roughly.

"Yes, Richard," she said, quietly, and as if quite resigned to her fate; "I never do anything that you would not wish, only when--when--when my head gets hot and strange. I am quite ready, but--"

"Well?" said the great city man.

"You will let me see my little one before I go, Richard? I won't let my head get hot. You will not mind that. I will do all that you wish.

But why not let us be together? She is not mad; but that would not matter. Let me have her, and go away from here. She is so little, I could carry her; and we would never trouble you again. Indeed, indeed-- never, never again!"

If he could only have placed faith in those words, what a burden Richard Pellet would have felt to be off his shoulders! But no; he dared not trust her; and in the few moments while she stood with her wild strange eyes gazing appealingly in his face, he saw her coming to his office for help, then down to Norwood, declaring that she was his wedded wife, and trouble, exposure, perhaps punishment, to follow, because, he told himself, he had declined to let this poor helpless maniac stand in the way of his advancement.

Richard Pellet's face grew darker as he turned to leave the room.

"But you will let me see her once, Richard--only once before I go?

Think how obedient I have been, how I have attended always to your words--always. I know what you mean to do--to shut me up in a dreadful madhouse, and all because--because my poor head grows so hot. It was not so once, Richard."

She dropped her work upon the floor, and elapsed her hands as she stood before him.

"Only once, Richard," she exclaimed again; "only once, for ever so short a time," and the voice grew more and more plaintive and appealing--the tones seeming to ring prophetically in Richard Pellet's ears, so that he found himself thinking--"Suppose those words haunt me at my deathbed!"

He started the next moment.

"Be quiet," he exclaimed, harshly, as he might have said "Down!" to a dog; when, rightly interpreting his words, the woman uttered a low wail, letting herself sink upon the floor, as she covered her face with her hands, and convulsively sobbed. But the trembling hands fell again as she shook her head with the action of one throwing back thick ma.s.ses of curling hair, and looking sharply up, she listened, for the sound of a bell fell upon her ear. The cause was plain enough, for Richard Pellet stood before her with the rope in his hand.

Then she slowly rose, sighing as she closed her eyes, and stood motionless until the woman of the house came into the room and laid her talon-like hand upon her shoulder. But though the prisoner shivered, she did not move from her place; she only opened her eyes and gazed once more imploringly at Richard, who avoided her look, and, walking to the window, peered through the bar-like blinds.

"Ellen!" said the woman, in a harsh voice, which seemed to grate through the room, and then unresistingly a prisoner, for the sake of Richard Pellet's prosperity, she followed her gaoler from the room, Richard Pellet waiting with knitted brows till the woman came back.

A long and somewhat angry conversation ensued, in which Richard Pellet tried very hard to make out whether the woman he had employed for so many years as his wife's attendant was in earnest concerning the written desire to give up the charge, or whether it was merely a bit of business-fencing to obtain a higher rate of payment. He left at last, boasting of the ease with which he could make fresh arrangements for "Ellen Herrisey's" reception. "But I will not take any further steps till I hear from you again," he said, while the woman watched him as he left the room with a strange meaning smile.

"Another twenty pounds a year will do it," said Richard, as he walked away. "He won't let her give up the money."

"You're like the ostrich we read about," muttered the woman, as she watched her visitor down the street. "Do you think I don't know you're married again, you brute? Ellen Herrisey, indeed! It shall be fifty pounds a year more, or I'll know the reason why!"

Volume 1, Chapter XX.

STARTLING.

Mr Richard Pellet was back at Norwood Station at about the same time as his stepson reached the terminus at Sh.o.r.editch, where he caught the express, and ran back to Cambridge, to find a letter which made considerable alterations in his arrangements, of which more after a while. As for Richard Pellet, he had all the cares upon him that night of a great dinner-party, for Mrs Richard, in happy ignorance of all that might work to her mortification, had, in obedience to Richard's commands, issued her cards to a select circle of city magnates, of course including their wives and daughters--men who matched well with Richard Pellet, some of them worth a plum--golden drop, no doubt.

The stout butler and the men in coach-lace were hard-worked that evening, for the best dinner-service was in use, the choice plate, too, had been taken out of green baize bags, from green baize-lined boxes; the three extra dark-hued leaves had been fitted into the dining-table; the large epergne was filled with flowers and waxlights. Bokes the butler had turned eighteen damask dinner-napkins into as many c.o.c.ked-hats, all crimp, crease, and pucker; prepared his salad--a point which he never yielded--and decanted his wines. Two men in white had been down all day from Gunter's, driving cook and kitchenmaid out of their senses, as they declared again and again that there was nothing in the kitchen fit for use, and that it was quite impossible for a decent dinner to be prepared. They vowed that the great prize kitchener was a sham; the patent hot-plate good for nothing; the charcoal stove and warm cupboard, abominations both; stew-pans, saucepans, and kitchen fittings generally, a set of rubbish; and ended by asking how they were to be expected to work without stock. There would have been no dinner if Mrs Richard, upon hearing the twentieth complaint, had not taken the butler into her counsel, and urged him to allay the disorder. The consequence was that Mr Bokes went into his pantry, and from thence into his kitchen, which was hotter, morally, than ever. Then he mysteriously signalled with his thumb to the two men in white, and shortly after installed them in a couple of chairs in the cool shades of the pantry.

As if performing some mysterious ceremony, Mr Bokes made the cork of a port-wine bottle "skreel" as he tortured it by forcing in a screw, and then brought it forth with a loud "fop," holding it out, wet and blood-stained--grape--for the senior Gunterian to sniff at, and afterwards to the lieutenant, when the following solemn dialogue took place:--

"Twenty!" whispered Mr Bokes, solemnly.

"Twenty!" exclaimed the Gunterians, in duet.

"Twenty!" repeated Mr Bokes, with additional solemnity; and then he added, "Five bin."

Speech ceased for a few moments, while Mr Bokes armed his guests with large claret-gla.s.ses, afterwards tenderly pouring forth the deep-hued generous mixture.

"Seeing as you're both gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, confidentially, "as goes into the best of society, I thought I should like to hear your opinions."

"But you'll join us?" said Gunter One to the speaker.

"Well, raylly, gentlemen," hesitated Mr Bokes.

Gunter One set down his gla.s.s and pursed up his mouth, looking at Gunter Two, who also set down his untasted gla.s.s, folded his arms, and looked fiercely at the butler.

"Well, raylly, gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, "if that's it, I suppose I must;" and helping himself to a gla.s.s, the three took wine together, after the most approved fashion, but perhaps with an additional dignity.

Gunter One thought it a tolerably fruity wine.

Gunter Two considered that it wanted more age.

"Well, I don't know," said Gunter One; "for a light-bodied tawny wine, it's fairish."

"I think I'll take another gla.s.s," Mr Bokes, said Gunter Two, Gunter One following his example; and the butler filled their gla.s.ses, not forgetting his own; after which there was a discussion upon crust, and bees-wing, and vine-disease, when Mr Bokes dropt a hint about the finest gla.s.s of Madeira to be had in or out of London being likely to be on the way when the dinner was over.

The conversation was stopped by the ringing of a bell, and as James, footman, and Thomas, under-butler, were busy over other matters, Mr Bokes went to respond to the summons.

Five minutes had elapsed before the butler returned, in time to find the bottle perfectly empty, and the Gunters smacking their lips over the last drops in their gla.s.ses; when, no more being forthcoming, the gentlemen in white returned to the kitchen, sufficiently good-humoured for Number One to smile affably upon the cook, and Number Two to address the kitchenmaid as "My dear," in asking for a wooden spoon.

The full resources of the Norwood establishment were brought out that night, and Jared Pellet of Duplex Street would have looked less dreamy, and rubbed his eyes, as he turned from the duet he was having with Monsieur Canau, with Janet, little Pine, and Patty for audience, could he have seen the dinner served in a dining-room that sparkled with candles, plate, and gla.s.s. Even the most ill-disposed of the guests acknowledged the repast to be a success, that is, as far as appearances went. There was only one failure--the smash made by one of the men of a dish of meringues, leaving a blank place upon the table. Wines, ices, attendance, all were good. There could not be a doubt of Mr Richard Pellet's wealth, nor of the high position he occupied, not only in the city, but in the pleasant suburban district of Norwood.

The ladies had risen, and, amidst a pleasant rustling of silks, swept up-stairs; the gentlemen had drawn their chairs nearer together for the convenient pa.s.sage of port-decanter and claret-jug, when Mr Bokes, the Norwood Pharaoh's chief butler, whispered to his master that he was wanted.

"Indeed," said Mr Richard Pellet, loudly, for he was delivering his opinion upon City affairs, "unless a similar crisis should arise, I give you my word of honour that it must be--Now, Bokes," in an undertone, "what is it? What the deuce do you mean--at such a time? Who wants me?"

"Tall, stout woman, sir."

"Lady?"