“These are matters of taste. There are scores of women like publicity, and would rather be notorieties for scandal than models of unnoticed virtue, so we 'll not discuss that. There, there; don't look so supremely indignant and contemptuous. That expression became you well enough at three-and-twenty; but ten years, ten long years of not the very smoothest existence, leave their marks!” She shook her head mournfully, but in silence. “At all events,” resumed he, “declare that you object to the letters being in other hands than your own; and as to a certain paper of mine,--a perfectly worthless document, as he well knows,--let him give it to you or burn it in your presence.” She pushed her hair back from her temples, and pressed her hands to either side of her head, as though endeavoring to collect her thoughts, and rally herself to an effort of calm determination'. “How much of this is true?” said she, at last. “What do you mean?” said he, sternly. “I mean this,” said she, resolutely,--“that I want to know, if you should get this money, is it really your intention to go abroad?” “You want a pledge from me on this?” said he, with a jeering laugh. “You are not willing to stoop to all this humiliation without having the price of it afterwards? Is not that your meaning?” Her lips moved, but no sound was audible. “All fair and reasonable,” said he, calmly. “It's not every woman in the world would have the pluck to tell her husband how much meanness she would submit to simply to get rid of him; but you were always courageous, that I will say,--you have courage enough.” “I had need of it.” “Go on, Madam, finish your speech. I know what you would say. 'You had need of courage for two;' that was the courteous speech that trembled on your lip. The only thing that beats your courage is your candor! Well, I must content myself with humbler qualities. I cannot accompany you into these high flights of excellence, but I can go away; and that, after all, is something. Get me this money, and I will go,--I promise you faithfully,--go, and not come back.” “The children,” said she, and stopped. “Madam!” said he, with a mock-heroic air, “I am not a brute! I respect your maternal feelings, and would no more think of robbing you of your children--” “There,--there, that will do. Where is Sir Brook to be found,--where does he live?” “I have his address written down,--here it is,” said he,--“the last cottage on the southern side of Howth. There is a porch to the door, which, it would seem, is distinctive, as well as three chimneys; my informant was as descriptive as Figaro. You had better keep this piece of paper as a reminder; and the trains deposit you at less than half a mile from the place.” “I will go early to-morrow morning. Shall I find you here on my return?” “Of that you may be certain. I can't venture to leave the house all day; I 'm not sure there will not be a writ out against me.”