to hurt his child, only for the child's own sake I would not advise
you to bring her up to London. I should keep her quietly with you,
and trust to a man appearing on the scene--it's a thing you _can_
trust to, where there is £3000 a year. I daresay I could send some
one your way quite quietly. But don't bring John's girl to London,
at any rate, just yet.

"I hope we may come within reach of you in the autumn. I should
love to have a quiet day with you and to see Molly.

"Ever yours affectionately,

"JANE DAWNING."

"P.S.--By the way, is the £3000 sure to go on? If it is not, might
it not be as well to put a good bit of it away?"

Thus in one short hour, Molly had been told that her mother was living
but did not want her child; that the ideal of motherly love had in her
own case been a complete fiction; that the mother of her imagination had
never existed, and, immediately afterwards, she had been given a glimpse
of the world's view of her own position as a young person best
concealed, or, at least, not brought too much forward.

Lastly, with the news of the money that at least meant freedom, she had
gained, by a rapid intuition, a faint but unmistakable sense of
discomfort as to the money itself.

It was not any scrupulous fear that it could be her duty to inquire
whether Sir David Bright ought to have left his fortune to his widow!