"Why do you speak thus, Miss Gillespie? Why should there be a gulf between you and me? I am not aware of any reason. I do not despise you because you are a governess, because you use the talents and the education you possess to earn an honourable livelihood. Why do you speak thus?" Miss Gillespie looked at her, and an expression of deep suffering crossed her face. "I will explain my meaning presently," she said; "but now I have something else to say. Is it true that Sir Charles Mitford has followed this woman to Baden? They say so at the clubs, and I heard it this morning. Pardon me, and tell me. I don't ask the question for my own sake, or out of idle curiosity. I have a serious, a most serious meaning." "Yes, it is too true," said Lady Mitford. "Then listen. He must be brought back: he is only gone to mortification and ridicule. I know a great many queer people, and I hear a great many strange things; and I heard this to-day: Mrs. Hammond is going to marry the Russian Prince Tchernigow, a man who is a violent, jealous, brutal wretch,--I know all about him,--a man whose cruelty and vindictiveness are not to be surpassed; her punishment is in safe hands Dear Lady Mitford, I understand that look. You don't wish her to be punished, I am sure--quite sure of that; but if she marries Tchernigow, she must be. But it is not with that we are concerned: it is to bring _him_ home--to rescue him from danger and disgrace and ridicule, for your sake; and you can do it--you, and you only." Georgie was breathless with astonishment. Miss Gillespie rose and caught her by both hands. Then she went on speaking with great rapidity: "Yes, I say you can do it. Write to him to-day--now, this very hour-and tell him Lizzie Ponsford has been with you; that _she_ holds the bill which he employed that poor wretch Effingham to get for him; that Effingham cheated him from first to last--from the time of the Albatross till the day he went to the bottom of the sea with the Pocahontas. Tell him he shall have it placed in his hands on the day he returns to London. Your letter will reach him when he has learned the faithlessness of the woman for whom he has betrayed you. Do you not think it will touch him, written as you will write it,--with the gentleness, the pity, the pardon it will convey? At the moment of his greatest exasperation, in the full tide of his bitterness, a way of escape from one constant, overhanging, torturing cause of uneasiness will be removed; and by whose hands? Yours!" She paused, breathless in her excitement, and took from her bosom a paper, which she laid on the table before Lady Mitford, who looked at it pale and trembling. "You will do as I say, dear Lady Mitford--you will do it for his sake, and your own, and for mine? Let me have the satisfaction of knowing that I have been able to do this service for you--the only service I have ever done any one; the only one. I fear, I have ever wished to do."