“And what means have you for meeting them?”

At this question so plainly put, her face flushed.  She half rose from her chair, and exclaimed in the true tone of aristocratic hauteur, “Really, sir, I do not know what right you have to ask me that question.”

I laughed a little, though not very loud.  It was rude, I own; but who could have helped it?  I replied, speaking low, but slowly and distinctly—­“You forget.  I did not send for you; you came to me.  You have forged bills to the amount of twelve hundred pounds.  Yours is not the case of a ruined merchant or an ignorant over-tempted clerk.  In your case a jury”—­(she shuddered at that word)—­“would find no extenuating circumstances; and if you should fall into the hands of justice you will be convicted, degraded, clothed in a prison-dress, and transported for life.  I do not want to speak harshly; but I insist that you find means to take up the bill which Mr. Axminster has so unwittingly endorsed!”

The Honorable Miss Snape’s grand manner melted away.  She wept.  She seized and pressed my hand.  She cast up her eyes, full of tears, and went through the part of a repentant victim with great fervor.  She would do anything—­anything in the world to save the poor man.  Indeed, she had intended to appropriate part of the two hundred pound bill to that purpose.  She forgot her first statement, that she wanted the money to go out of town.  Without interrupting, I let her go on and degrade herself by a simulated passion of repentance, regret, and thankfulness to me, under which she hid her fear and her mortification at being detected.  I at length put an end to a scene of admirable acting, by recommending her to go abroad immediately, to place herself out of reach of any sudden discovery; and then lay her case fully before her friends, who would no doubt feel bound to come forward with the full amount of the forged bills.  “But,” she exclaimed, with an entreating air, “I have no money; I cannot go without money!” To that observation I did not respond although I am sure she expected that I should, check-book in hand, offer her a loan.  I do not say so without reason; for, the very next week, this honorable young lady came again, and, with sublime assurance and a number of very charming, winning speeches, (which might have had their effect upon a younger man), asked me to lend her one hundred pounds, in order that she might take the advice I had so obligingly given her, and retire into private life for a certain time in the country.  I do meet with a great many impudent people in the course of my calling—­I am not very deficient in assurance myself—­but this actually took away my breath.

“Really, madam,” I answered, “you pay a very ill-compliment to my gray hairs, and would fain make me a very ill return for the service I have done you, when you ask me to lend a hundred pounds to a young lady who owns to having forged to the extent of one thousand two hundred pounds, and to owing eight hundred pounds besides.  I wished to save a personage of your years and position from a disgraceful career; but I am too good a trustee for my children to lend money to anybody in such a dangerous position as yourself.”