‘I did. Father and mother think I left service in a regular way; but they don’t know in London where I’m gone. They never saw me again. I daresay they think I’m drowned. Was it very wicked, Hugh? I did so long to die. Isn’t it funny that, first, I should have thrown myself into the water and been picked out again, and then had this bad illness, and still I can’t die? Why won’t God let me end it all?’ ‘Because He designs you for better things, my poor Nell,’ said her companion. ‘I don’t think so. Better things are not in my way. I believe I shall die a violent death after all. I remember some time ago--ah! it was the races _he_ took me to--a gipsy told my fortune, and she said the same thing, that I should come to a violent end. It little matters to me, so long as it gives me forgetfulness and rest. ‘You mustn’t talk like that,’ said Hugh, reprovingly. ‘We must all die in God’s time, and it is our duty to wait for it. But do you mean to say that this man has cast you off without a thought, Nell?’ ‘Oh, no! he offered, or his lawyer did, to settle money on me, but I would not take it. What did I want with money without _him_?’ ‘You did right to refuse it. Money coming from such a source could have brought no blessing with it. But surely you do not lament the loss of this scoundrel who, not content with betraying you, has left you in this heartless manner for another woman?’ But no true woman ever let another man abuse her lover, however guilty he might be, without resenting it. Least of all women was Nell Llewellyn likely to stand such a thing. ‘How _dare_ you call him by such a name?’ she cried angrily. ‘Whatever he may have done, it is not _your_ place to resent it. I am nothing to _you_. He is not a scoundrel. There never was a more honourable, kind-hearted, generous creature born. He would never have deserted me if it had not been for his lawyer, who was always dinning into his ears that with such a property it was his duty to marry. And the woman, too, whom he has married--she inveigled him into it. I know she did. Oh, Hugh, if I could only kill her how happy I should be. If I could be in the same room with her for five minutes, with a knife in my hand, and stab her with it to the very heart, and see her die--die--with pain and anguish as she has made my heart die, I think I should be happy.’ ‘Nell, you shock and terrify me!’ exclaimed the young man. ‘Do you know what you are saying? Do you know that in harbouring such feelings you are as guilty as if you had committed the crime itself? What has this poor lady done to injure you that you should cherish such animosity against her?’