“Agatha.”
“P.S. Can I send you any nicknackery from Paris? I shall be delighted to be of service to you.”
“Well, that is as characteristic a letter as I ever read,” exclaimed Wentworth as he flung it on the table; “how adroitly she mingles her poison with her sweetmeats; and how well she has managed to affix a sting at the last: I wonder whom she has duped into a marriage.”
“Some foolish boy, doubtless, for she speaks of him as being just of age, while she will never again see her thirtieth summer,” said Alice; “but what does she mean Harry about my early engagement with Charles Wilson? He was a clerk to my father.”
“She told me a long story Alice about a proposed elopement between you and this said Charles Wilson which had been prevented by her interference.”
“Good Heavens! Harry how she must have misrepresented the affair. Wilson was in papa’s employ and probably fancied it would be a good speculation if he could marry his employer’s daughter. He became exceedingly troublesome to me by his civilities, and finally made love to me in plain terms, when I communicated the whole affair to cousin Agatha, and begged her to tell papa of it, because I was such a child that I was ashamed to tell him myself. She did so, and Wilson was dismissed; but I was then only a school girl.”
“You seemed so agitated when she recurred to the subject that I readily believed her story.”
“I was vexed, Harry, because she insinuated that there was a likeness between our dear boy and that vulgar fellow.”
“How I have been deceived by a fiend in the form of an angel,” exclaimed Wentworth; “we should have been saved much suffering if she had never entered our doors.”
“Indeed we should, Harry, and I shall never cease to reproach myself for my folly in introducing such a serpent into our Elysium.”