"Be it as you will in this instance," returned Ellen. "Mrs. Wentworth shall accompany me—I can rely upon her."
She then rang the bell.
"What do you require, Ellen?" asked Greenwood, alarmed by this movement on her part.
"Merely to ensure the presence of one of your servants, as I pass from this spot to the door of the room," replied Ellen. "You can give him some order to avert suspicion."
Filippo made his appearance; and Ellen then took leave of Mr. Greenwood, as if nothing peculiar had occurred between them.
Oh! with what joy—with what fervid, intoxicating joy—did she return to Markham Place! She had subdued him whose cold, calculating, selfish heart was hitherto unacquainted with honourable concessions;—she had conquered him—reduced him to submit to her terms—imposed her own conditions!
Never—never before had she embraced her child with such pride—such undiluted happiness as on that evening. And never had she herself appeared more beautiful—more enchantingly lovely! Her lips were wreathed in smiles—her eyes beamed with the transports of hope, triumph, and maternal affection—a glow of ineffable bliss animated her countenance—her swelling bosom heaved with rapture.
"You are very late, my dear child," said Mr. Monroe, when she took her seat at the tea-table: "I began to grow uneasy."
"I was detained a long time at the office of your debtor," answered Ellen. "To-morrow morning I intend to pay a visit to Mrs. Wentworth, and shall invite myself to breakfast with her. So you need not be surprised, dear father," she added, with a sweet smile, "if I do not make my appearance at your table."
"You please me in pleasing yourself, dear Ellen. Moreover, I am delighted that you should cultivate Mrs. Wentworth's acquaintance. Most sincerely do I hope," continued Mr. Monroe, "that we shall have letters from Richard to-morrow. The communications which we have already received are not satisfactory to my mind. God grant that he may be by this time safe in Naples—if not on his way to England."