[CHAPTER VII]
A few days after his departure I was surprised by a visit from Sir William Abdy, with whom I was but very slightly acquainted. I thought it strange his paying any visits so immediately after the elopement of his wife, who was a natural daughter of the Marquis Wellesley by a Frenchwoman, who, as I am told, once used to walk in the Palais Royal at Paris, but afterwards became Marchioness of Wellesley.
"I have called upon you, Miss Harriette," said Sir William, almost in tears, "in the first place, because you are considered exactly like my wife,"—my likeness to Lady Abdy had often been thought very striking—"and, in the second, because I know you are a woman of feeling!"
I opened my eyes in astonishment.
"Women," he continued, "have feeling, and that's more than men have."
I could not conceive what he would be at.
"You know, Miss Harriette, all about what has happened, and my crim. con. business, don't you, miss?"
"Yes."
"Could you have thought it?"