It was the final struggle between love and duty, and though the vanquished heart wailed piteously, exultant conscience, like Jupiter of old, triumphantly applauded, “Evan, evoe!”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
“Wanted!—Information of Salome Owen, who will confer a favor on her friends, and secure a handsome legacy by calling at No. — ——.”
“Dr. Grey, for six months this advertisement has appeared every morning in two of the most popular journals in Paris, and as it has elicited no clew to her whereabouts, I am reluctantly compelled to believe that she is no longer in France.”
Mr. Granville refolded the newspaper, and busied himself in filling and lighting his meerschaum.
“By whom was that notice inserted?”
“By M. de Baillu, the agent and banker of Mr. Minge of Boston, who was warmly and sincerely attached to your protégée, and earnestly endeavored to marry her. When she left Palermo, Mr. Minge came to this city and solicited my aid in discovering her retreat.”
“Pardon me, but why did he apply to you?”