“Dere was no use, honey; Bainrothe done bought him up.  I peaked fru de key-hole, and seen de gole paid down wid my own two precious eyes.  Dar’s no mistake about dat,” shaking her head dolefully.  “All you has to do now, honey, is to keep wide awake, an’ duly sober, as ole mast a used to say, ’frain ’ligiously from de tea or coffee, one or de udder, dat she will offer you ‘bout eight o’clock dis ebenin’, or mebbe dey will send it up by me, I can’t say yit.  Howsomever, you needn’t to drink dat stuff arter wat you knows; an’ ef dey goes to take you forcefully off to de belfry in de night-time, you kin skreech ebbery step ob de way.  Dat’s de bes plan, chile, wat I kin project for your resistance; but I’se afeard dar is no hopin’ you, any way we can fix it.”

“Thank you, Dinah, you have done your best, no doubt; don’t sell my ring, though; I shall want it back some day.”

“La, chile, I done ‘sposed ob it aready, an’ dey give me a poun of backer an’ a gole-piece fur it.  It was good gole an’ no mistake.  I tells you all,” adding aloud, “an’ now, Miss Mirim, I has tole you ebbery syllable.  I disremembered ob dat speritual ar.  I is sorry you doesn’t like dese crockets, fur de madame made un wid her own clean red hands.”

“Say white hands, you old limb of Satan, or I shall be after you with a mop,” cried the laughing voice of Mrs. Raymond from the side of the sick woman’s bed, betraying at once how she had divided her attention.  Then, advancing into my chamber, she added, as coolly as though she had been suggesting a visit to the theatre: 

“Excuse me, Miss Monfort, for intruding, but I am about to ask you whether it would be agreeable to you to be married to-night at ten o’clock?  This seems very sudden, but circumstances have forced the arrangement on us all, and I assure you, from the bottom of my heart, it is for both of us the preferable alternative of evils, as poor Sir Harry Raymond would have said.  Alas, my dear! shall I ever again have such a helpmate as he was:  so kind, so generous, so considerate”—­and she clasped and wrung her large, rosy hands.  “A second marriage is often a great sacrifice, and, in any case, a hazard, as I feel, as the time draws near, very sensibly.  But you seem confounded, and yet you must have been somewhat prepared for this condition of things after your last interview with Dr. Englehart?”

The amazement of Dinah at this change in the programme, if possible, exceeded my own.  She did not understand, as I did, that it was a measure prompted not only by humanity but self-interest, and that even the hard heart of Basil Bainrothe preferred a compromise to such violence and injustice as those he had otherwise meditated.  Besides, what better or more sensible mode than this could there be, according to his views, of quashing the whole esclandre—­quieting official inquiry as well as public indignation?  As the wife of Gregory, I should be, of course, a forcat for life, walking abroad with the concealed brand and manacle, afraid and ashamed to complain and acknowledge my condition, and willing to condone every thing.