"Then, go—leave me—depart!" cried Greenwood, frantically. "I am in no humour to listen to you now! But, Ellen," he added, suddenly becoming cool—desperately cool:—"tell me—speak—you will not betray me?"
"No—that is, on one condition," answered Ellen.
"One condition!" repeated Greenwood: "name it!"
"That you make me your wife," was the steady reply.
"My wife!" exclaimed Greenwood, laughing hysterically. "Do you know whose wife you would become?—the wife of a forger! Have you not learnt that dread secret? But, perhaps, it is to mock me that you offer to become my wife! Oh! I understand you full well, Ellen! When I was rich and beyond the reach of the law, I would not marry you;—and now you mean me to comprehend that since I am ruined, and every moment in danger of being dragged to a station-house, you would scorn the alliance! The jest is good:—no—the revenge is just! But it is not the less bitter to me, Ellen!"
"By heavens, you wrong me!" cried Ellen. "Listen with calmness—with composure—if you can!"
"I cannot, Ellen—I cannot! I am mad! A few months—nay, even a few weeks ago, I was happy—wealthy—prosperous:—now I am ruined—miserable—lost! Oh! the grand prospects that were so lately open before me!"
"Again I say, listen. All is not so bad as you imagine," said the young lady, in a hasty tone.
"What do you mean, Ellen? what can you mean?" he exclaimed, bewildered. "Do you not understand the nature of a forgery—the consequences which it entails? True—I did not perpetrate the forgery with my own hands;—but the bills are all drawn—all endorsed by me! Oh! it is dreadful—it is terrible!"
"I will not keep you any longer in suspense," said Ellen. "Your pocket-book is found——"