“It was better for the child.”

“No doubt you know best.  However, this discussion is unnecessary.  Will you comply with his lordship’s conditions, and part with the child?”

“Never!”

“Remember, the offer will not be renewed.”

“And what, pray, would become of me?  You deprive me of everything—­present joy in my offspring, his affection in coming years.  I shall be alone, friendless—­a beggar, perhaps.”

“As to that, you must trust to his lordship’s generosity.”

“Little as you deserve it,” added Lord Essendine, meaningfully.

She turned on him at once.

“Of what do you accuse me?”

“Of much that I forbear to repeat now.  But I will spare you—­I will leave you to your own conscience and—­”

“What else, pray?”

“The law.  It may seize you yet, madam, and it has a tight grip.”

“I shall not remain here to be so grossly insulted.  If you have anything more to say to me, my lord, you must write.”

“And you refuse to give up the child?”

“You had better put your proposals on paper, Lord Essendine.  I may consider them in my child’s interests, although the separation would be almost too bitter to bear.  I may add, however, that I will consent to nothing that does not include some settlement on myself—­”

“As to that,” said the lawyer, “his lordship declines to bind himself—­is it not so, my lord?”

“Quite; I will make no promises.  But she will not find me ungenerous if she will accept my terms.”

And so the interview ended.  There was no further reference made to the unpleasant facts now brought to light by the letter and documents sent over by Hyde.  Mrs. Wilders, as we shall still call her, knew that she could not dispute them; that any protest in the shape of law proceedings would only make more public her own shame and discomfiture.  But if she was beaten she would not confess it yet; and at least she was resolved that the enemy who had so ruthlessly betrayed her should not enjoy his triumph.

CHAPTER XIII.

HUSBAND AND WIFE.

Mrs. Wilders’s first and only idea after she left Lincoln’s Inn was to get to Paris as soon as she could.  She no longer counted on much assistance from Ledantec, nor, indeed, had she much belief in him now; but she yet hoped he might help her to obtain revenge.  Whatever it cost her, Rupert Gascoigne must pay the penalty of thwarting her when she seemed on the very threshold of success.

Having desired her maid to pack a few things, she hastily realised all the money she had at command and started by the night-mail for Paris.

Paris!  Like the husband she had wronged and deserted, she had not visited the gay city for years.  Not since she had thrown in her lot with an unspeakable villain, joining and abetting him in a vile plot against the man to whom she was bound by the strongest ties in life—­by loyalty, affection, honour, truth.