THE WIDOW BARNABY.
CHAPTER I.
MRS. BARNABY LOSES HER SENSES, AND RECOVERS THEM.—SHE TAKES A DESPERATE RESOLUTION.—MISS MORRISON PROVES HERSELF A FRIEND IN NEED.—AGNES FINDS CONSOLATION IN SORROW.
Mrs. Barnaby's horror on recovering her senses (for she really did fall into a swoon) was in very just proportion to the extent of the outlay her noble vision had cost her. To Miss Morrison, who had listened to all her hopes, she scrupled not to manifest her despair, not, however, entering into the financial part of it, but leaving it to be understood by her sympathizing friend, that her agony proceeded wholly from disappointed love.
"What a Lovelace!... what a Lothario!... what a finished deceiver!... Keloreur!..." exclaimed the pitying spinster.... "And how thankful ought I to be that no man can ever again cause me such terrible emotion.... Nong jammy!"
"Gracious Heaven! what is to become of me?" cried Mrs. Barnaby, apparently but little consoled by this assurance of her friend's exemption from a similar misfortune; "what ought I to do, Miss Morrison?... If I set off instantly for London, do you think I could reach it before he leaves it for Rome?"
Miss Morrison, having turned to the newspaper, examined its date, and read the fatal paragraph again, replied, "You certainly could, my dear Mrs. Barnaby, if this statement be correct; but I would not do it, if I were you, without thinking very seriously about it.... It is true I never had a lord for a lover myself, but I believe when they run restive, they are exceedingly difficult to hold; and if you do go after him, and fail at last to touch his cruel heart, you will be only worse off than you are now.... Say clare."
"That may be all very true in one sense, Miss Morrison," replied the unhappy widow; "but there is such a thing as pursuing a man lawfully for breach of promise of marriage, and ... though money is no object to me ... I should glory in getting damages from him, if only to prove to the world that he is a scoundrel!"