"Let us be friends then, let us be friends," said Wilder, in a voice full of supplication. How strange it sounded to hear a man like this, wealthy and great, asking for _my_ friendship. "Let us be friends,--the two last representatives of these great houses must forgive each other. Love can heal this awful wound, and the house of Wilder shall not be extinct. Oh, God is great and good, he will sanction this love even though you are what you are." He was walking up and down the room as he spoke. "Does he want me to love _him_?" I thought. Then he stopped. "You have no money?" "None." He went to a desk and drew out a cheque-book, scribbled for a moment, tore off a cheque, and brought it to me. I looked at it: it was a cheque on the British Linen Company's Bank for five hundred pounds. I felt just as if I were drunk, the books in the cases seemed to dance. "This can't be for me," I remember saying; "or do you want me to do some dreadful thing, that you offer me all this money----" I stopped, for he was smiling at me such a melancholy, kind smile, it told me at once that I had nothing to fear from him. He called me "child," and took my hand and kissed it--I felt so ashamed of my glove, but he did not seem to notice the holes in it, nor how old it was. "Yes," he said, "the money is for you; you must buy yourself beautiful clothes and some jewellery. I am going to send you to the north of England, to do what has to be done. You must start on the day after to-morrow; have no fear, I wish you to do nothing sinful or wrong, but rather the best work mortal ever did; you shall be provided for. I will set aside a fund for you under trustees; it is an act of piety, not charity, for in saving the last of the Sinclairs from want I am doing an act which may expiate the sin our house committed. Beatrice Sinclair, you shall never want again, never be cold or hungry." I was crying like a child. When I could cry no more he began speaking again. "You must stay in this house until you start, that is, if you please. My carriage shall take you to all the shops you require to visit; by the way, spend _all_ that money on clothes. I will give you a note to the jewellers with whom I deal in Bond Street, and you can supply yourself with all the jewellery you require; don't think about the expense. You are beautiful by nature, but I wish you to be as beautiful as art can make you. Then, again, you will require dressing-bags and portmanteaux, and such things. I will give you a note to the best firm in London. I need not speak to you on matters of taste; you are a lady--I only say this, spare no expense. Is that cheque sufficient?" "More than sufficient." I felt dazed and strange. Did he intend to marry me? Why was he sending me to the north of England? But it was delightful, I could not describe my feelings. "Now you must have some food," he said, getting up and moving to the door as he spoke. "Come with me to the dining-room." CHAPTER III