Her lips moved, but no sound was audible.
“All fair and reasonable,” said he, calmly. “It's not every woman in the world would have the pluck to tell her husband how much meanness she would submit to simply to get rid of him; but you were always courageous, that I will say,—you have courage enough.”
“I had need of it.”
“Go on, Madam, finish your speech. I know what you would say. 'You had need of courage for two;' that was the courteous speech that trembled on your lip. The only thing that beats your courage is your candor! Well, I must content myself with humbler qualities. I cannot accompany you into these high flights of excellence, but I can go away; and that, after all, is something. Get me this money, and I will go,—I promise you faithfully,—go, and not come back.”
“The children,” said she, and stopped.
“Madam!” said he, with a mock-heroic air, “I am not a brute! I respect your maternal feelings, and would no more think of robbing you of your children—”
“There,—there, that will do. Where is Sir Brook to be found,—where does he live?”
“I have his address written down,—here it is,” said he,—“the last cottage on the southern side of Howth. There is a porch to the door, which, it would seem, is distinctive, as well as three chimneys; my informant was as descriptive as Figaro. You had better keep this piece of paper as a reminder; and the trains deposit you at less than half a mile from the place.”
“I will go early to-morrow morning. Shall I find you here on my return?”
“Of that you may be certain. I can't venture to leave the house all day; I 'm not sure there will not be a writ out against me.”