‘Yes, she did, the dear, good girl. She was at her bedroom window, which overlooks Portland’s, when I went there, and heard my entreaties to him to return my letters, and his brutal, sarcastic replies; so as soon as I was gone she confronted him, and made him give them up to her—how, she did not tell me, only he did—and she brought them to me. Oh, I was glad! I kissed her a dozen times for her kindness.’
‘But why did she do it?’ demanded the earl. ‘I cannot understand her interest in the matter, nor how she induced Portland to do what you could not. It was like Nell; she always was resolute and plucky; but what was the motive?’
‘Her love for you, Ilfracombe,’ replied his wife gravely, ‘and her desire to keep your name untarnished. Oh! you have never known what was in her noble nature, that is very clear. She is twice the woman I am, or ever shall be. She ought to have been your wife, and she is fit for it.’
‘Nora, Nell is a good girl, and I deeply regret the part I played in soiling her life; but there is only one wife in the world for me, and she is by my side. It was very good of poor Nell, very generous, very kind, to have done what she has done for you, and we must think of some means of repaying her. And I am glad to tell you, for her sake and my own, that she is going to be married herself. She came to see me this morning about some business of her father’s, and told me the news.’
‘Going to be married!’ repeated Nora, with womanly intuition. ‘Are you sure?’ She did not mention such a thing to me; and she looked so sad and spoke so sadly, she made me cry. I don’t think she can be going to be married. And when I asked her what I could do to return her kindness, she said,—“Love him with all your heart and soul, and never have a secret from him again.”’
‘And do you, Nora?’ whispered Ilfracombe.
‘What?’
‘Love me with all your heart and soul.’
She turned, and threw her arms about his neck.
‘I do—I do! my darling, and never so much as at this moment. Neither will I ever have a secret from you again. There are the letters,’ she continued, as she drew the packet from her pocket and placed it in his hand. ‘They were written so long ago that I don’t remember what is in them; but whatever it may be—good, bad or indifferent—read it all, dear, and judge me as you will. At all events, you will know the worst, and I need not fear that I am claiming your love under false pretences for the future.’