Arabella uttered a faint scream. She could not resist--had no thought of resisting--the impulse to bound forward--lay her hand on his arm. She was too agitated to perceive whether his predominant feeling was surprise or rapture. A few hurried words were exchanged, while Matilda Darrell gave one sidelong glance towards the handsome stranger, and walked quietly by them. On his part, Jasper said that he had just returned to London--that he had abandoned for ever all idea of a commercial life--that his father's misfortune (he gave that gentle appellation to the incident of penal transportation) had severed him from all former friends, ties, habits--that he had dropped the name of Losely for ever--entreated Arabella not to betray it--his name now was Hammond--his "prospects," he said, "fairer than they had ever been." Under the name of Hammond, as an independent gentleman, he had made friends more powerful than he could ever have made under the name of Losely as a city clerk. He blushed to think he had ever been a city clerk. No doubt he should get into some Government office; and then, oh then, with assured income and a certainty to rise, he might claim the longed-for hand of the "best of creatures."
On Arabella's part, she hastily explained her present position. She was governess to Miss Darrell--that was Miss Darrell. Arabella must not leave her walking on by herself--she would write to him. Addresses were exchanged--Jasper gave a very neat card--"Mr. Hammond, No.--, Duke Street, St. James's."
Arabella, with a beating heart, hastened to join her friend. At the rapid glance she had taken of her perfidious lover, she thought him, if possible, improved. His dress, always studied, was more to the fashion of polished society, more simply correct--his air more decided. Altogether he looked prosperous, and his manner had never been more seductive, in its mixture of easy self-confidence and hypocritical coaxing. In fact, Jasper had not been long in the French commercial house--to which he had been sent out of the way while his father's trial was proceeding and the shame of it fresh--before certain licenses of conduct had resulted in his dismissal. But, meanwhile, he had made many friends amongst young men of his own age--those loose wild viveurs who, without doing anything the law
