“What has brought you back so suddenly?” said Mildred. “Are you in any difficulty?”
“In a most desperate difficulty,” he replied. “I want two hundred pounds, and must have the money by to-morrow morning. I could procure it at once from Carteret; but I would rather shoot myself than accept a farthing from Mrs. Calveriey. Can you help me?”
“I can,” interposed Sir Bridgnorth, quickly. “Luckily, I have the amount about me. In this pocket-book,” he added, producing one as he spoke, “you will find the sum you require. Repay me at your convenience.”
“A thousand thanks, Sir Bridgnorth?” cried Chetwynd. “You have, indeed, conferred a very great obligation upon me, and I shall not speedily forget it. Ere long, I hope to be able to return you the money.”
“Don't trouble yourself on that score; but let me see you soon. Come to me at Charlton.”
“I cannot promise to visit you immediately, Sir Bridgnorth,” replied the young man.
“Why not?” inquired Mildred.
“Do not ask me to explain,” he rejoined. “I am scarcely my own master, and where I to make a promise, I might not be able to fulfil it. I must now begone.”
“Stay!” cried Sir Bridgnorth; “can I not bring about a reconciliation between you and Mrs. Calveriey? I think I could accomplish it, if you will consent to some arrangement.”
“Never,” replied Chetwynd. “And I beg that my visit and its object may not be mentioned to her.”