"Simpson, would you go and nurse this creature, as this----" she looked at the signature-- "Mr. Benson, who ever he is, proposes?"
"Me! no, indeed, ma'am," said the maid, drawing herself up, stiff in her virtue. "I'm sure, ma'am, you: would not expect it of me; I could never have the face to dress a lady of character again."
"Well, well! don't be alarmed; I cannot spare you: by the way, just attend to the strings on my dress; the chambermaid here pulled them into knots, and broke them terribly, last night. It is awkward, though, very," said she, relapsing into a musing fit over the condition of Ruth.
"If you'll allow me, ma'am, I think I might say some thing that would alter the case. I believe, ma'am, you put a bank-note into the letter to the young woman yesterday?"
Mrs. Bellingham bowed acquiescence, and the maid went on-- strape on
"Because, ma'am, when the little deformed man wrote that note (he's Mr. Benson, ma'am), I have reason to believe neither he nor Mrs. Morgan knew of any provision being made for the young woman. Me and the chambermaid found your letter and the bank-note lying quite promiscuous, like waste paper, on the floor of her room; for I believe she rushed out like mad after you left."
"That, as you say, alters the case. This letter, then, is principally a sort of delicate hint that some provision ought to have been made; which is true enough, only it has been attended to already. What became of the money?"
"Law, ma'am! do you ask? Of course, as soon as I saw it, I picked it up and took it to Mrs. Morgan, in trust for the young person."
"Oh, that's right. What friends has she? Did you ever hear from Mason?--perhaps they ought to know where she is."