"Yes, Marian—Mr. Greenwood is the father of my child; and more than that—he is—but no matter," said Ellen, suddenly checking herself. "You now know my secret, Marian; and you will never reveal it?"
"Never, Miss, I promise you most solemnly."
"And you will take this letter to him to-day—and you will wait for his reply."
"I will go this afternoon, Miss; and I will obey your wishes in every way."
"And now, Marian, hasten to tell my father that I am unwell; and resist any desire on his part to obtain medical assistance."
"Leave that to me, Miss. You already appear so much better that the old gentleman will easily be induced to suppose that a little rest is all you require."
"Ah! Marian—how can I ever reward you for all your goodness towards me?"
CHAPTER LXXIX.
THE BILL.—A FATHER.
NOTHING could be more business-like than the study of Mr. Greenwood. The sofa was heaped up with papers tied round with red tape, and endorsed, some "Corn-Laws," others "New Poor Law," a third batch "Rottenborough Union," a fourth "Select Committee on Bribery at Elections;" and so on.
Piles of letters lay upon one table; piles of newspapers upon another; and a number of Reports of various Committees of the House of Commons, easily recognised by their unwieldy shapes and blue covers, was heaped up on the cheffonier between the windows.