The earl tried to smile as he replied,—
‘I am not angry with you, Nora, only utterly disgusted with Jack for turning out such a low blackguard, and with myself for being so blind as to believe him to be an honourable man.’
‘But you will be angry with me for this. Two nights ago he told me that if I went over to his room at the farm I should receive my letters—and I went.’
‘You visited Portland at his sleeping apartments? Oh, Nora, I thought you had too much pride in your position as my wife—too much respect for yourself—to do such a thing!’
‘I would not have gone for anything but those letters,’ she cried. ‘Oh, Ilfracombe, believe me and forgive me! I never was a liar. He said they were in his despatch-box, and I was fool enough to believe him, and fell into the trap. And when I got there, he declared he had made a mistake, and must have left them in town—all lies, all lies!’
‘Then how did you get them at last?’
‘He wrote me a note this morning—here it is,’ said Nora, as she produced it from her blotting-case—‘to say he had telegraphed for the packet, and it had arrived from town, and if I would meet him in the meadow this afternoon I should receive them. That was the secret of my taking a walk with him, you see, Ilfracombe. I take a walk voluntarily with the brute! I would rather be hanged, any day!’ cried Nora impetuously.
‘But he never came, you say.’
‘No; but someone else did. Can you guess who it was? That Miss Llewellyn from the farm. She is really your girl; she is no more drowned than I am, and, oh, she is so sweet and nice! However did you come to give her up for me?’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Nora!’ said the earl. ‘I knew some days back that Nell is still alive, but thought it just as well not to mention the subject to you. But did she bring you your letters?’