"But I do not want more than it is worth," said Emilia, with a joyful flush. A thousand francs! It meant a safe escape from a place where she was avoided; it meant sufficient to pay for a few weeks' board and lodging. "We will say it is worth that." "You are most kind," said Emilia, giving him the ring. "And I can pay what I owe the landlord." "You cannot do that out of a thousand francs. Try and be a little sensible, and say nothing more about it. After all, it was Gerald who brought you here, and the responsibility, which was his, is now mine. Here is the money. You will give me a receipt for it? Otherwise I should not be able to account for my possession of a ring you have always worn upon your finger." "Kindly write out the receipt," said Emilia, "and I will sign it." Leonard wrote the receipt, which Emilia signed. "This will not do," he said. "You have signed it in a name which does not belong to you." She had signed "Emilia Paget." She shuddered at Leonard's remark. "How else should I sign it?" "In the name which is your own," said Leonard, tearing up the paper, and writing another; "Emilia Braham." He placed the fresh receipt before her, and with trembling fingers she affixed the name, "Emilia Braham." Leonard exulted. Here was a proof which he had not thought of obtaining. Being dated, it might serve as an open admission that Emilia, living with his brother, was quite aware that she was not his wife. The confession and the renunciation were of her own doing. "Can I do anything more for you?" he asked. "Yes. Get me a carriage, and accompany me out of the village. I need protection from insult." "You shall not be insulted. I promise it. How long will you be getting ready?" "I shall be ready in less than an hour." Her preparations for departure helped to divert her mind from the grief which oppressed it. Into one trunk she packed what belonged to her. She would have liked to take the desk, inlaid with silver, of Indian manufacture, which she had regarded as her own, but it had been removed with other articles which she believed were hers. She made no complaint; even to herself she did not repine; she submitted to everything, her only wish being to find herself in a place where she was unknown. All was ready when Leonard came to tell her that the carriage was waiting. "Where do you wish to go?" he asked. "It does not matter," she replied, "so long as I am among strangers." He named a town at a distance of eighteen or twenty miles, and she said it would do as well as any other. Soon they were at the door of the inn, about which were assembled the usual idlers. The carriage which Leonard had procured was a closed one, and he assisted Emilia into it, saying that he would sit by the driver. She appreciated the act, and believed it proceeded from thoughtfulness; it was her desire to be alone with her thoughts.