"I think _you_ would," said she, dryly. "Sit down and copy that note. We must send it by a messenger at once."
"I don't think you put it strongly enough about old Foss-brooke. I 'd have said distinctly,--I object to his acting on account of his close and intimate connection with my wife's family."
"No, no; leave it all as it stands. If we begin to change, we shall never have an end of the alterations."
"If I believed he would not fire at me, I'd not shoot him," said Sewell, biting the end of his pen.
"He 'll not fire the first time; but if you go on to a second shot, I'm certain he will aim at you."
"I'll try and not give him this chance, then," said he, laughing. "Remember," added he, "I'm promising to cross the Channel, and I have not a pound in my pocket."
"Write that, and I 'll go fetch you the money," said she, leaving the room; and, passing out through the hall and the front door, she put her arm and hand into a large marble vase, several of which stood on the terrace, and drew forth the pocket-book which Sir Brook had given her, and which she had secretly deposited there as she entered the house.
"There, that's done," said he, handing her his note as she came in.
"Put it in an envelope and address it. And now, where are you to find Harding, or whoever you mean to take with you?"
"That's easy enough; they 'll be at supper at the Club by this time. I'll go in at once. But the money?"
"Here it is. I have not counted it; he gave me the pocket-book as you see."
"There's more than he said. There are two hundred and eighty-five pounds. He must be in funds."
"Don't lose time. It is very late already,--nigh two o'clock; these men will have left the Club, possibly?"
"No, no; they play on till daybreak. I suppose I'd better put my traps in a portmanteau at once, and not require to come back here."
"How amiable a wife can be at the mere prospect of getting rid of her husband!"
"_Adieu et bonne chance_," said she, gayly.
"That means a good aim, I suppose," said he, laughing.
She nodded pleasantly, kissed her hand to him, and he was gone.
Mrs. Sewell's maid made two ineffectual efforts to awaken her mistress on the following morning, for agitation had drugged her like a narcotic, and she slept the dull, heavy sleep of one overpowered by opium. "Why, Jane, it is nigh twelve o'clock," said she, looking at her watch. "Why did you let me sleep so late?"