"I mean what I say, madam," added the baronet sternly. "Mr. Greenwood is your paramour, and you can surely use your influence with him to save your husband."
"My God! what do I hear?" ejaculated Cecilia. "What proof have you, Sir Rupert—what testimony—what ground—"
"Every proof—every testimony—every ground," interrupted the baronet impatiently. "But, again I say, I do not wish to ruin your reputation, if you will save mine."
"Impossible!" cried Lady Cecilia. "I do not deny that Mr. Greenwood has accommodated me with an occasional loan—upon interest—"
"Interest indeed!" said the baronet, whose turn to assume a tone of raillery had now arrived: "interest paid from the bank of my honour!"
"Upon legal and commercial terms has he lent me money," continued Lady Cecilia; "and this very evening has he refused to advance me another shilling!"
"Is that true, Cecilia?" demanded Sir Rupert.
"Nay—satisfy yourself," said the lady; and drawing a note from her bosom, she handed it to her husband.
The correspondence that passed between Mr. Greenwood and Lady Cecilia was always of a laconic and most guarded nature: there was consequently nothing in the letter now communicated to Sir Rupert Harborough, to confirm his belief in his wife's criminality. Indeed, the epistle was neither more nor less than any gentleman might write upon a matter of business to any lady.
"I see that Mr. Greenwood is tired of you, Cecilia," said the baronet, throwing the note upon the table, "and that he is anxious to break off the connexion. Now I will tell you how you must be kind enough to act," he continued, in a tone of command. "You must proceed at once to Mr. Greenwood; you must tell him that I have discovered all—that I have positive proofs—that since the day when Chichester discovered him with his arm round your neck in my drawing-room—"