“Of my own knowledge I can say nothing; nay,
I must own, that reports differ even concerning Mrs.
Montreville’s character. But surely the
mere suspicion”——
“The mere suspicion, Mr. Hartley, can have no
weight with me, considering that I can oppose to it
the testimony of the man with whom I am willing to
share my future fortunes. You acknowledge the
question is but doubtful, and should not the assertion
of him of whom I think so highly decide my belief
in a doubtful matter? What, indeed, must he be,
should this Madame Montreville be other than he represented
her?”
“What must he be, indeed!” thought Hartley
internally, but his lips uttered not the words.
He looked down in a deep reverie, and at length started
from it at the words of Miss Gray.
“It is time to remind you, Mr. Hartley, that
we must needs part. God bless and preserve you.”
“And you, dearest Menie,” exclaimed Hartley
as he sunk on one knee, and pressed to his lips the
hand which she held out to him. “God bless
you!—you must deserve blessing. God
protect you!—you must need protection.—Oh,
should things prove different from what you hope, send
for me instantly, and if man can aid you, Adam Hartley
will!”
He placed in her hand a card containing his address.
He then rushed from the apartment. In the hall
he met the lady of the mansion, who made him a haughty
reverence in token of adieu, while a native servant
of the upper class, by whom she was attended, made
a low and reverential salam.
Hartley hastened from the Black Town, more satisfied
than before that some deceit was about to be practised
towards Menie Gray—more determined than
ever to exert himself for her preservation; yet more
completely perplexed, when he began to consider the
doubtful character of the danger to which she might
be exposed, and the scanty means of protection which
she had to oppose to it.
As Hartley left the apartment in the house of Ram
Sing Cottah by one mode of exit, Miss Gray retired
by another, to an apartment destined for her private
use. She, too, had reason for secret and anxious
reflection, since all her love for Middlemas, and
her full confidence in his honour, could not entirely
conquer her doubts concerning the character of the
person whom he had chosen for her temporary protectress.
And yet she could not rest these doubts upon any thing
distinctly conclusive; it was rather a dislike of
her patroness’s general manners, and a disgust
at her masculine notions and expressions, that displeased
her, than any thing else.
Meantime, Madame Montreville, followed by her black
domestic, entered the apartment where Hartley and
Menie had just parted. It appeared from the conversation
which follows, that they had from some place of concealment
overheard the dialogue we have narrated in the former
chapter.
“It is good luck, Sadoc,” said the lady,
“that there is in this world the great fool.”
