"She only told me how faithfully she had served you." "Yes; that comes to the same thing.

I should have thought you would have liked to be mistress of your house, Nell, without any one to interfere with you." "Mrs.Tadman is nothing to me," answered Ellen, who had been by no means prepossessed by that worthy matron; "but I shouldn't like her to be unfairly treated on my account." "Well, we'll think about it, Nell; there's no hurry.

She's worth her salt, I daresay." Mr.Whitelaw seemed to derive a kind of satisfaction from the utterance of his newly-betrothed's Christian name, which came as near the rapture of a lover as such a sluggish nature might be supposed capable of.

To Ellen there was something hideous in the sound of her own name spoken by those hateful lips; but he had a sovereign right so to address her, now and for evermore.

Was she not his goods, his chattels, bought with a price, as much as a horse at a fair?
That nothing might be wanting to remind her of the sordid bargain, Mr.
Whitelaw drew a small canvas bag from his pocket presently--a bag which gave forth that pleasant chinking sound that is sweet to the ears of so many as the music of gold--and handed it across the hearth to William Carley.
"I'm as good as my word, you see," he said with a complacent air of patronage.