"A lady."
"In one way, a lady; but you see she has been brought up in a common way, and among common people that it wouldn't do for me to mix with. My family will be mad enough with me as it is, but I dare say I can smooth them over after a bit, if I can show them that the girl has entirely thrown off her old companions and friends."
"What is it you propose to do, then?"
"To run away with her."
Mrs. Lenoir pressed her hand to her heart to still its wild beating; to her comprehension, quickened as it was by love, the villainy of this man was clearly unfolding itself; his tone, his words, his manner, were all betraying him.
"Gentlemen have run away with poor girls before to-day," he said, with an airy contemplation of the ring on his finger.
"Oh, yes."
"But the little witch refuses to elope unless I provide her with a lady-companion." A grateful light was in Mrs. Lenoir's eyes, and a feeling of devout thankfulness in her heart. "Well, now, if you'll agree to one thing, you shall be that lady-companion."
"I will agree to anything."
"You're a sensible woman. It isn't much to do. You must let the girl understand that you're a relation of mine--an aunt, say. She has set her foolish little mind upon it, and it won't do any harm to humour her. Do you agree?"