"Did he tell you so, Milly?"
"He wrote to me to go back to the Hampstead rooms, miss. And I thought that everything was going to be right between us. I had something to tell him which I thought would please him; and I hoped—I hoped—even if things had not been quite right about the marriage—that he would put them straight before my baby came. For the child's sake I thought maybe he wouldn't give me up. I had been dreadfully afraid; but when he sent for me to London again, I thought that he loved me still, and that we were going to have a happy time together.
"So I went to Hampstead; but he was not there. He sent his clerk instead—the man you saw me walking with the other day. And he told me that Mr.——Beadon did not wish to see me again, that I had been deceived by the mock marriage, and that he sent me twenty pounds, and I might have more by writing to his clerk. Not to him! I was never to see him or speak to him again."
"And what did you do then, Milly?"
"It was very hard for me. I fainted, and when I came to myself Mr. Johnson was gone, and the money was stuffed into my pocket. Perhaps it was mean of me to keep it, but I hadn't the heart or the spirit to send it back. I did not know what I should do without it, for I hadn't a penny of my own. I stayed for a little time at the Hampstead lodgings, but the landlady got an idea of the true state of things and abused me shamefully one day for having come into her house; so I was forced to go. I don't know what I should have done if I hadn't met Mr. Johnson in the street. He was really kind, though he doesn't look as if he would be. He told me of nice cheap lodgings, and of some one who would look after me; and he offered me money, but I wouldn't take it."
"How long did your money last?"
"It was all gone before baby came. I lived on the dresses and presents that Mr. Beadon had given me. I heard nothing from Birchmead—I did not know that my grandmother was dead, and I used to think sometimes that I would go to her; but I did not dare. I knew that it would break her heart to see me as I was."
"Poor girl!" said Lettice again, below her breath.
"You must despise me!" cried Milly, bursting into tears. "And you would despise me still more—if I told you—everything."
"No, Milly, it is not for me to despise you. I am very, very sorry for you. You have suffered a great deal, for what was not all your fault."