"Of course—precisely!" ejaculated Montague.
"On the 26th, as I was saying, Stephens's plans will be realized; and you will be worth ten thousand pounds."
"Oh! it is not so much for the money that I shall welcome that day: but chiefly because it will be the last on which I shall be doomed to wear this detestable disguise."
"And shall not I be supremely happy to leave this land with you—to call you my own dear beloved wife—and to bear you away to the sunny climes of the south of Europe, where we may live in peace, happiness, and tranquillity to the end of our days?"
"What a charming—what a delicious picture!" ejaculated the lady, her bosom heaving with pleasurable emotions beneath the tight frock which confined it. "But——oh! if the plans of Mr. Stephens should fail;—and that they might fail, I am well assured, for he has often said to me, 'Pray be circumspect, Walter: you know not how much depends upon your discretion!'"
"Those plans will not—cannot fail!" cried Montague emphatically. "He has told me all—and everything is so well arranged, so admirably provided for!"
"He has told you everything," said the lady, reproachfully; "and he has told me nothing."
"And I dare not enlighten you."
"Oh! I would not hear the secret from your lips. I have a confidence the most blind—the most devoted in Mr. Stephens; and I feel convinced that he must have sound reasons for keeping me thus in the dark with reference to the principal motives of the deception which I am sustaining. I know, moreover—at least, he has declared most solemnly to me, and I believe his word—that no portion of his plan militates against honour and integrity. He is compelled to meet intrigue with intrigue; but all his proceedings are justifiable. There can be no loss of character—no danger from the laws of the country. In all this I am satisfied—because a man who has done so much for me and my poor deceased mother, would not lead me astray, nor involve me either in disgrace or peril."
"You are right," said Montague. "Stephens is incapable of deceiving you."