'I will hasten to him now,' said his lordship, and casting a significant glance at me, departed; leaving me quite astonished, both at his story, and his motive for fabricating it. It was, however, my business to support the deception.
Wilkinson then told me that he discovered my place of residence in London, from the discharged Butler, who, it seems, is not your son, but your lover; and to whom you have shewn all my letters. He went to Wilkinson, and made the disclosure for forty guineas. Sordid wretch! and Wilkinson says that he wants to marry you, merely for the sake of your annuity. Biddy, Biddy! had you known as much of the world as I do now, a fortune hunter would not have imposed upon you.
As to your shewing him my letters, I cannot well blame you for a breach of trust, which has answered the purpose of involving my life in a more complicated labyrinth of entanglements.
But to return. In the midst of our conversation, the maid brought me a note. It was from Montmorenci, and as follows:
'Will my soul's idol forgive the tale I told Wilkinson, since it was devised in order to save her from his fangs? This Doctor Merrick, whom I mentioned to him, instead of being a swindler, is a mad-doctor; and keeps a private madhouse. I have just seen him, and have informed him that I am about to put a lunatic gentleman, my honoured uncle, under his care. I told him, that this dear uncle (who, you may well suppose is Wilkinson) has lucid intervals; that his madness arose from grief at an unfortunate amour of his daughter's, and shews itself in his fancying that every man he sees wants to marry her, and has her written promise of marriage.
'I have already advanced the necessary fees, and now is your time to wheedle Wilkinson out of money, by pretending that you will return home with him. A true heroine, my sweet friend, ever shines in deception.
Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling.—Shakespeare.
'Ever, ever, ever,
'Your faithful