'Since he knows, now, that nothing will persuade me to sell that chance of succession, he will perhaps desist.' 'He will never desist. If you were dead! The thought lies in both their minds. If you were dead! Then that money would be Matthew's.' 'Do you think Mr. Probus will murder me?' 'Not with his own hands. Still--do you think, Will, that when two villains are continually brooding over the same thought, villainy will not follow? If I were you I would take this tale to the Alderman first, and to Probus next, and I should then keep out of the way for six months at least.' 'No.' I said. 'They shall be left to themselves.' Perhaps I was wrong. Had I told my uncle all, the bankruptcy would have been precipitated and Probus's claim would have been treated with all the others, and even if that large sum had fallen it would have been added to the general estate and divided accordingly. It was in the afternoon: the sun was sinking westward: it shone through the window upon Jenny as she restlessly moved about the room--disquieted by all she had to tell me. I remember how she was dressed: in a frock of light blue silk, with a petticoat to match: her hair hung in its natural curls, covered with a kerchief--the soft evening sunlight wrapped her in a blaze of light and colour. And oh! the pity of it! To think that this divine creature was thrown away upon my wretched cousin! The pity of it! 'Tell me, Jenny,' I said, 'how you became his wife?' 'Yes, Will, I will tell you,' she replied humbly. 'Don't think that I ever loved him--nor could I endure his caresses--but he never offered any--the only man who never wanted to caress me was my husband--to be sure he did not love me--or anyone else--he is incapable of love. He is a worm. His hand is slimy and cold: his face is slimy: his voice is slimy. But I thought I could live with him, perhaps. If not, I could always leave him.' She paused a little as if to collect herself. 'Every actress,' she went on, 'has troops of lovers. There are the gentlemen first who would fain make her their mistress for a month: those who would make her their mistress for a year: and those who desire only the honour and glory of pretending that she is their mistress: and then there are the men who would like nothing better than to marry the actress and to live upon her salary--believe me, of all these there are plenty. Lastly, there is the gentleman who would really marry the actress, all for love of her, and for no other consideration. I thought, at first, that your cousin Matthew was one of these.' 'How did you know him?' 'He was brought into the Green Room one night by some gambling acquaintance. I remarked his long serious face, I thought he was a man who might be trusted. He asked permission to wait upon me----' 'Well?' For she stopped.