“That extract is really very funny,” said George, critically.  “But don’t look depressed, Anne, I am only going to trouble you with one more dated a year or so later.  Listen.

“’I have several times seen the man you sent me; he is a fool and contemptible in appearance, and, worst of all, shows signs of falling in love with me; but, if you wish it, I will go through the marriage ceremony with him, poor little dupe!  You will not marry me yourself, and I would do more than that to keep near you; indeed, I have no choice, I must keep near you.  I went to the Zoological Gardens the other day and saw a rattlesnake fed upon a live rabbit; the poor thing had ample room to run away in, but could not, it was fascinated, and sat still and screamed.  At last the snake struck it, and I thought that its eyes looked like yours.  I am as helpless as that poor animal, and you are much more cruel than the snake.  And yet my mind is infinitely stronger than your own in every way.  I cannot understand it.  What is the source of your power over me?  But I am quite reckless now, so what does it matter?  I will do anything that does not put me within reach of the law.  You know that my husband is dead.  I knew that he would die; he expired with my name upon his lips.  The child, too, I hear, died in a fit of croup; the nurse had gone out, and there was no one to look after it.  Upon my word, I may well be reckless, for there is no forgiveness for such as you and I. As for little B——­, as I think I told you, I will lead him on and marry him:  at any rate, I will make his fortune for him:  I must devote myself to something, and ambition is more absorbing than anything else—­at least, I shall rise to something great.  Good-night; I don’t know which aches most, my head or my heart.’

“Now that extract would be interesting reading to Bellamy, would it not?”

Here she suddenly sprang forward and snatched at the letter.  But George was too quick for her; he flung it into the safe by his side, and swung the heavy lid to.

“No, no, my dear Anne, that property is too valuable to be parted with except for a consideration.”

Her attempt frustrated, she dropped back into her chair.

“What are you torturing me for?” she asked, hoarsely.  “Have you any object in dragging up the ghost of that dead past, or is it merely for amusement.”

“Did I not tell you that I had a favour to ask of you, and wished to get you into a proper frame of mind first?”

“A favour.  You mean that you have some wickedness in hand that you are too great a coward to execute yourself.  Out with it; I know you too well to be shocked.”

“Oh, very well.  You saw Angela Caresfoot, Philip’s daughter, here yesterday.”

“Yes, I saw her.”

“Very good.  I mean to marry her, and you must manage it for me.”

Lady Bellamy sat quite still, and made no answer.