"Can you wonder at that, mother?" replied Anne, bitterly. "Think of all that has happened this last month."
An angry light came into the faded eyes of the old woman. "You should be glad of what has happened," she said in a stern voice; "that wicked man has been punished for his evil courses. He drove my Emma to her death, and himself has perished by violence. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; that is Scripture."
"All the same, mother, I wish that he had not been murdered. Gregory was a brute, I know, and the death of poor Emma lies at his door; but murder--" she shuddered. "It is so terrible to think that he should have been cut off in the midst of his wickedness."
"He has gone down into the pit, child. Let us talk no more of him. It is said that we must forgive our enemies, but it is hard for me to forgive him, even though he is dead. My beautiful Emma, she should have lived as Lady Fellenger, instead of dying through his cruelty. I hope, Anne, that your marriage will turn out happier than that of your poor sister."
"Ted will be the best of husbands," said Anne, in a tone of conviction. "He loves me as dearly as I love him. I wonder when he is coming down to see me again? I have so much to tell him."
"About your visit to Half-Moon Street?"
"That and other things," was Anne's answer; then, after a pause, "though indeed he may not be so ignorant of that visit as you think."
"Who could tell him but yourself?"
"That detective, mother. He saw me when I entered the room, and he followed me also. If I had not escaped him in the manner I told you, I should have been in trouble."
"You need not be anxious about that now, Anne. The detective can never find you----"