Chapter Forty Eight.
My sister Virginia is at last placed in a situation which is satisfactory to my mother as well as to herself.
I remained very quietly in the coffee-room of the hotel, in case I should be sent for; which I presumed I should be before the day was over. In the afternoon a waiter came to say that Sir James O’Connor wished to speak to me, and I was ushered into his room, where I found Mrs St. Felix on the sofa.
As soon as the door was closed, Sir James took me by the hand, and led me up, saying, “Allow me to introduce your old friend as Lady O’Connor.”
“My dear Tom,” said she, taking me by the hand, “I am and ever shall be Mrs St. Felix with you. Come, now, and sit down. You will again have to take charge of me, for I am to return to Greenwich, and—leave it in a respectable manner. I daresay they have already reported that I have run away from my creditors. Sir James thinks I must go back as if nothing had happened, give out that I had some property left me by a relation, and then settle everything, and sell the goodwill of my shop. It certainly will be better than to give grounds for the surmises and reports which may take place at my sudden disappearance,—not that I am very likely to fall in with my old acquaintances at Greenwich.”
“Don’t you think so, Tom?—for Tom I must call you, in earnest of our future friendship,” said Sir James.
“I do think it will be the best plan, sir.”
“Well, then, you must convey her ladyship to Greenwich again this evening, and to-morrow the report must be spread, and the next day you will be able to re-escort her here. I hope you feel the compliment that I pay you in trusting you with my new-found treasure. Now let us sit down to dinner. Pray don’t look at your dress, Tom; at all events, it’s quite as respectable as her ladyship’s.”
After dinner a chaise was ordered, and Lady O’Connor and I returned to Greenwich, arriving there after dark. We walked down to her house: I then left her, and hastened to my mother’s.