When Filippo left her, and she found herself alone, she fell upon a sofa, and gave way to a violent flood of tears.
Then she felt relieved; and she began to ask herself wherefore she had come thither? Was it because she was glad to have found an excuse for calling upon him who was the father of her child? was it because she was anxious to receive his thanks—from his own lips—for restoring to him his pocket-book? She scarcely knew.
Half an hour passed in reflections of this nature—reflections which branched off in so many different ways, and converged to no satisfactory point—when a cab suddenly drove up to the house.
In another minute hasty steps ascended the stairs—they approached the drawing-room—and Greenwood rushed in, banging the door furiously behind him.
"My God! what have I done?" he exclaimed, frantically—for he did not immediately perceive Ellen, whom a screen concealed from his view. "The pocket-book is lost—gone! I am ruined—should those forged bills——"
He said no more, but threw himself upon a chair, and buried his face in his hands.
Ellen instantly comprehended it all:—the bills which she had seen in the pocket-book were forgeries!
Rapid as lightning a train of new reflections passed through her brain:—a project suggested itself;—she hesitated for a moment—but only for a moment:—she thought of her child—and she was resolved.
Assuming all her calmness, and calculating in an instant all the chances of her scheme, she rose from the sofa, and slowly approached the chair on which Greenwood was seated.
He heard a step in the room, and raised his eyes.