Their lips met, and being now no longer master of himself, he had one long lingering embrace, which, if the truth must be told, was neither parental nor fraternal.
“He is mine,” murmured the charmer, to herself. “He is in my toils, and soon, very soon, I shall be able to mould him at my will.”
It was true enough the chaplain was fascinated with the seductive being by his side. He forgot to administer his habitual moral discourse—he forgot all but one thing, this being that he had an alluring and fascinating woman by his side—and he drank deep of his first draught of illicit love.
She had worked unceasingly to bring about the present issue, and she had succeeded far beyond her expectations. The fortress she had been endeavouring to reach for so long a time fell into her hands as suddenly as unexpected.
A smile of triumph sat upon her features, for she felt that the battle was nearly won. She felt assured also that very shortly she should be able to gain her liberty; nevertheless she could not conceal from herself that much remained to be done.
Mr. Bourne, her uncle, had paid her another visit. He had brought her a second supply of money, which had been sent by Charles Peace.
Laura Stanbridge had bribed the female warders in charge of her so liberally that they were quite astounded at her munificence.
In prisons, workhouses, and other public institutions, money works wonders. It is useful enough, we all of us will readily admit, everywhere and under all circumstances, but without it the prisoner can do little or nothing—with it he or she can do a great deal.
The female warders were in the pay of Laura Stanbridge.
She persuaded them that she was highly connected, that some of her relations belonged to the upper ten, and they believed her. Small wonder at that, seeing that in appearance she was far above those females they were accustomed to have under their charge, and in addition to this she appeared to have ample means furnished her from those of her relations and outside the walls of the prison.