"I have only two friends—a Miss Featherstone, and an old gentleman called Mr. Anerley. These are the two I mean."
Mr. Cayley opened his eyes with astonishment.
"Miss Featherstone of the —— Theatre?"
"Yes."
"You propose to give her 20,000*l.*?"
"Yes," said the young girl, frankly, and with a bright happy look on her face.
"The imprudence—the indiscretion—if I may say so!—(although it is no business of mine, my lady, and we shall be glad to fulfil any of your instructions). What could such a girl do with that sum of money?"
"What shall I do with all the rest—if it is real, which I can scarcely believe yet? But I wish you to tell me truly what was my mother's intention in keeping this secret from me. I was only to apply to you in extreme need. No one knows how extreme my need is—how extreme it was last night, when it drove me to take out that letter and resolve to appeal to you."
"Your mother told my father why she should keep the secret from you. She wished you never to undergo the wrongs she had suffered by coming in contact with those people whose influence over your father she feared and hated."
"And how she used to teach me always to rely upon the stage!" she said, musingly, and scarcely addressing herself to the man before her. "Perhaps I have done very wrong in relinquishing it. Perhaps I am to have as miserable a life as she had; but it will not be through them."