The secretary bowed and withdrew.  Bella’s eyes followed him to the door.  She felt that Mrs. Boffin was uncomfortable.

“Noddy,” said Mrs. Boffin thoughtfully, “haven’t you been a little strict with Mr. Rokesmith to-night?  Haven’t you been just a little not quite like your own old self?”

“Why, old woman, I hope so,” said Mr. Boffin cheerfully.  “Our old selves wouldn’t do here, old lady.  Our old selves would be fit for nothing but to be imposed upon.  Our old selves weren’t people of fortune.  Our new selves are.  It’s a great difference.”

Very uncomfortable was Bella that night, and very uneasy was she as the days went by, for Mr. Boffin made a point of hunting up old books that gave the lives of misers, and the more enjoyment he seemed to get out of this literature, the harder he became to the secretary.  Somehow, the worse Mr. Boffin treated his secretary, the more Bella felt drawn to the man whose offer of marriage she had refused.  The crisis came one morning when the Golden Dustman’s bearing towards Rokesmith was even more arrogant and offensive than it had been before.  Mrs. Boffin was seated on a sofa, and Mr. Boffin had Bella on his arm.

“Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” he said gently.  “I’m going to see you righted.”

Then he turned to his secretary.

“Now, sir, look at this young lady.  How dare you come out of your station to pester this young lady with your impudent addresses?  This young lady, who was far above you.  This young lady was looking about for money, and you had no money.”

Bella hung her head, and Mrs. Boffin broke out crying.

“This Rokesmith is a needy young man,” Mr. Boffin went on unmoved.  “He gets acquainted with my affairs and gets to know that I mean to settle a sum of money upon this young lady.”

“I indignantly deny it!” said the secretary quietly.  “But our connection being at an end, it matters little what I say.”

“I discharge you,” Mr. Boffin retorted.  “There’s your money.”

“Mrs. Boffin,” said Rokesmith, “for your unvarying kindness I thank you with the warmest gratitude.  Miss Wilfer, good-bye.”

“Oh, Mr. Rokesmith,” said Bella in her tears, “hear one word from me before you go.  I am deeply sorry for the reproaches you have borne on my account.  Out of the depths of my heart I beg your pardon.”

She gave him her hand, and he put it to his lips and said, “God bless you!”

“There was a time when I deserved to be ‘righted,’ as Mr. Boffin has done,” Bella went on, “but I hope that I shall never deserve it again.”

Once more John Rokesmith put her hand to his lips, and then relinquished it, and left the room.

Bella threw her arms round Mrs. Boffin’s neck.  “He has been most shamefully abused and driven away, and I am the cause of it.  I must go home; I am very grateful for all you have done for me, but I can’t stay here.”