“Henry has behaved most imprudently,” continued Mrs. Montgomery, “in marrying, as you assure me he has done: and very wickedly, in endeavouring to deny it, when done; and I shall see that he does your daughter, if she be a modest girl, every justice, however ruinous to his prospects, ill-fated being! But you ought, indeed, my good man, you ought to take care, how you accuse any one, lightly, of such a crime as you have ventured to name! Were it not that I see your own internal sufferings are so dreadful, that you scarcely know what you say, and that it all proceeds from parental affection, in which I can sympathise, I should, indeed, be very much, and very justly offended!”
But there was no severity in Mrs. Montgomery’s tone: she looked, while she spoke, at her own daughter, and her mind glanced at what was, and what was not, parallel in situation, and she could have pardoned almost any extravagance in poor David.
“Weel, weel,” he replied, and forgetting ceremony, he sat down on a chair, and leaned back quite exhausted.
Lady L., who had felt for his extreme agitation, and had ordered wine to be brought in, now charitably offered him some, helping him herself. At this mark of condescension he attempted to stand up; but she saw he was unable, and would not let him. He took the glass from her; in doing so, a finger came in contact with the hand of Lady L.; its touch was like that of an icicle! He brought the wine near his lips; then, pausing, laid it on the table untasted, and said, “Bit wha could yon ha’ been, ’at went oot wid a young gintleman, and niver cam’ back, and was big wid bairn!”
“Possibly,” replied Mrs. Montgomery, “some lady, whose friends live in that direction, and who had no intention of returning.”
David took up the glass again; but it dropped from his hand, and he fell to the floor with a fatally heavy sound.
Mrs. Montgomery rang, called, begged Lady L. to sit down quietly in the next room, and not suffer herself to be agitated; then rang, and called again. Servants appeared, the doctor was sent for, bleeding, and every other method of restoring animation, resorted to, but in vain—poor David was no more! It was the doctor’s opinion, that his long and hurried journeys on foot, the frightful agitation of his mind, and the heat of the weather, had all together occasioned apoplexy.
Henry, when, a few days after this melancholy catastrophe, the subject was renewed, persisted in his assertions, that he had never thought of marrying the girl; that she was a perfectly good-for-nothing creature, and, most probably, gone off with some fellow, whoever, perhaps, she had been most intimate with; though it was not a week since the father had had the insolence to threaten him, because he had spoken to the girl two or three times, with legal proceedings, forsooth.
Mrs. Montgomery was staggered, and puzzled, and knew not what to think. She wrote, however, to the master of S— B— school, but received, in reply, no more satisfactory information than the certainty that Betsy Park was missing. As to her character, she had always been considered dressy, and fond of the company of scholar lads.