Somewhere about two years after Matilda’s death, Arabella happened to be in the office of the agent who collected her house-rents, when a well-dressed man entered, and, leaning over the counter, said: “There is an advertisement in to-day’s Times about a lady who offers a home, education, and so forth, to any little motherless girl; terms moderate, as said lady loves children for their own sake. Advertiser refers to your office for particulars—give them!”
The agent turned to his books; and Arabella turned towards the inquirer. “For whose child do you want a home, Jasper Losely?”
Jasper started. “Arabella! Best of creatures! And can you deign to speak to such a vil—-”
“Hush—let us walk. Never mind the advertisement of a stranger. I may find a home for a motherless child—a home that will cost you nothing.”
She drew him into the street. “But can this be the child of—of—Matilda Darrell?”—
“Bella!” replied, in coaxing accents, that most execrable of lady-killers, “can I trust you?—can you be my friend in spite of my having been such a very sad dog? But money—what can one do without money in this world? ‘Had I a heart for falsehood framed, it would ne’er have injured you’—if I had not been so cursedly hard up! And indeed, now, if you would but condescend to forgive and forget, perhaps some day or other we may be Darby and Joan—only, you see, just at this moment I am really not worthy of such a Joan. You know, of course, that I am a widower—not inconsolable.”
“Yes; I read of Mrs. Hammond’s death in an old newspaper.”
“And you did not read of her baby’s death, too—some weeks afterwards?”’
“No; it is seldom that I see a newspaper. Is the infant dead?”
“Hum—you shall hear.” And Jasper entered into a recital, to which Arabella listened with attentive interest. At the close she offered to take, herself, the child for whom Jasper sought a home. She informed him of her change of name and address. The wretch promised to call that evening with the infant; but he sent the infant, and did not call. Nor did he present himself again to her eyes, until, several years afterwards, those eyes so luridly welcomed him to Podden Place. But though he did not even condescend to write to her in the mean while, it is probable that Arabella contrived to learn more of his habits and mode of life at Paris than she intimated when they once more met face to face.