Mr. Temple, a handsome, graceful man, not less than thirty-five years of age, interposes with a merry laugh.
"I posted one to her ladyship three hours ago, twenty miles from this spot."
"All the more reason," says Nelly Marston seriously, "why she should not know you are in Springfield."
He tries to stop her remonstrance by, "Now, my dear Mother Hubbard!" but she will not listen to him.
"Lady Temple unfortunately magnifies the smallest trifles into serious vexations. She is very, very fretful"--this with a little weary sigh--"and the doctor says it is most important she should not be annoyed in any way. Mr. Temple, if she suspects you are in the house to-night, she will never forgive you."
"And houses, lands, and money," he rejoins, with a careless shrug of his shoulders, "would melt away into such airy distances that, though my limbs were quickened with mercury, I should never be able to overtake them. But what are all these when weighed against love----"
Flushed and palpitating, Nelly finds strength to interrupt him.
"Mr. Temple, I must not listen to you. I am not ignorant of the reason why your aunt sent you away--for you were sent, you know!" she adds, somewhat saucily.
"Oh, yes, I know I was sent away. I am sure I did not want to go."
"Twice to-day Lady Temple has spoken seriously to me--I leave you to guess upon what subject. Mr. Temple, you know what my position is. I am a dependent, without parents, without friends, without money. Sometimes when I look into the future, and think of what would become of me if I were thrown upon the world, I tremble with fear."