The old woman leant forward, and whispered something in Ellen's ear.
The young lady started; and an exclamation of mingled disgust and horror escaped her lips.
"Do not alarm yourself, my dear child," said the old hag, resuming her search with the most imperturbable coolness: "I did not mean to offend you. I can assure you that many a young lady, of higher birth than yours, and dwelling in the most fashionable quarters of London, has been glad to avail herself of my services. What would often become of the indiscreet miss if it wasn't for me? what, indeed?—what, indeed?"
"Haste and give me the card," exclaimed Ellen, in a tone of ill concealed disgust and aversion; "I am in a hurry—I can wait no longer."
"There it is, my dear," said the old hag. "I know the situation will suit you. When you require another, come to me."
Miss Monroe received the card, and took her departure without another moment's delay.
As soon as the young lady had left that den, the old hag proceeded to serve up her stew, muttering to herself all the while, "One of my stray sheep come back to me again! This is as it should be. There is yet much gold to be made by that girl: she cannot do long without me!"
Then the horrible wretch fetched from the cupboard the champagne-bottle which contained her gin; and she seated herself cheerfully at the table covered with the dainties that she loved.
CHAPTER LXXXVII.
THE PROFESSOR OF MESMERISM.
ELLEN had already been long enough from home to incur the chance of exciting surprise or alarm at her absence; she was therefore compelled to postpone her visit to the Professor of Mesmerism until the following day.