“The bad wishes of the wicked fall on themselves, Justine,” said Lord Exham, as he lifted the trinket. “How much money does your mistress owe you?”
“I have no ‘mistress.’ Miss Vyner owes me a quarter’s wage, and a quarter’s notice, that is eight pounds.”
“Is that correct, Annabel?”
“The woman says so. Pay her what she wants–only get her out of my sight.”
“Oh, Miss, I can tell you–”
“Go. Pack your trunk, and be back here in fifteen minutes. And, mind what I say, leave England at once–the sooner the better.”
Before the time was past, the woman was outside the gates of Richmoor House, and Piers returned to Annabel. “That trouble is all over and gone forever,” he said to her; “now, dear Bella, lift up your heart to its full measure of love and joy! Let Cecil see you to-night in your old beauty. He is fretting about your health; show him the marvellously bright Annabel that captured his heart with a glance.”
“I will! I will, Piers! This very night you shall see that Annabel is herself again.”
“And in three days you are to be Cecil’s wife!”
“In three days,” she echoed joyfully. “Leave me now, Piers. I want to think over your goodness to me. I shall never forget it.”