“No,” said Clarence; “all doubts are over—I am going to be married.”
“Bravo!—But you look as if you were going to be hanged. May I, as it will so soon be in the newspaper, may I ask the name of the fair lady?”
“Virginia St. Pierre. You shall know her history and mine when we are alone,” said Mr. Hervey, lowering his voice.
“You need not lower your voice,” said Dr. X——, “for Mrs. Delacour is, as you see, so much taken up with her own affairs, that she has no curiosity for those of her neighbours; and Mr. Hartley is as busy as—”
“Mr. who? Mr. Hartley did you say?” interrupted Clarence, eagerly turning his eyes upon the stranger, who was a middle-aged gentleman, exactly answering the description of the person who had been at the Asylum in search of his daughter.
“Mr. Hartley! yes. What astonishes you so much?” said X——, calmly. “He is a West Indian. I met him in Cambridgeshire last summer, at his friend Mr. Horton’s; he has been very generous to the poor people who suffered by the fire, and he is now consulting with Mrs. Delacour, who has an estate adjoining to Mr. Horton’s, about her tenants, whose houses in the village were burnt. Now I have, in as few words and parentheses as possible, told you all I know of Mr. Hartley’s history; but your curiosity still looks voracious.”
“I want to know whether he has a miniature?” said Clarence, hastily. “Introduce me to him, for Heaven’s sake, directly!”
“Mr. Hartley,” cried the doctor, raising his voice, “give me leave to introduce my friend Mr. Hervey to you, and to your miniature picture, if you have one.”
Mr. Hartley sighed profoundly as he drew from his bosom a small portrait, which he put into Mr. Hervey’s hands, saying, “Alas! sir, you cannot, I fear, give me any tidings of the original; it is the picture of a daughter, whom I have never seen since she was an infant—whom I never shall see again.”
Clarence instantly knew it to be Virginia; but as he was upon the point of making some joyful exclamation, he felt Dr. X—— touch his shoulder, and looking up at Mr. Hartley, he saw in his countenance such strong workings of passion, that he prudently suppressed his own emotion, and calmly said, “It would be cruel, sir, to give you false hopes.”