“Stay, Julius! these are serious charges, and such as no man could patiently listen to of his affianced wife. Your presents I know she received, for from her jestingly showing them to me, and pointing out the house from which they came, I was led to write the note in your hand, of which she is aware; but that a girl of Charlotte Lawrenson’s dignity of character would answer love-letters from an entire stranger, and exchange coquettish glances with him in the streets, is more than I can credit.”
“That is language, Elkinton, that I cannot and will not submit to,” retorted Julius angrily; “if you must have proofs farther than the word of a man of honor, take these!” and he drew the notes from his bosom, where, in the most approved fashion of lovers, he had kept them secured day and night.
Elkinton snatched them, and after a scrutinizing examination replied, “I can say, almost positively, that not a word here is in her handwriting.”
“No doubt, you find it very satisfactory to feel thus assured,” said Julius, with a sarcastic smile.
“To save further dispute, by which neither of us can be convinced,” returned Elkinton, endeavoring to be more composed, “I will go directly to Miss Lawrenson, and ask an explanation from her, without which, I at least, cannot feel satisfied. If you shall be at leisure, I will call on you, or, if you prefer it, shall expect you here at eight this evening.”
For particular reasons, unnecessary to specify, Julius chose the latter, and Elkinton, escorting him out with cold politeness, proceeded, in much perturbation, to the mansion of Mr. Lawrenson.
Our hero was punctual to his appointment in the evening, and found Elkinton impatiently awaiting him. “I have laid your representations before Miss Lawrenson, and, for your sake, am sorry that she disclaims their veracity. Though she again acknowledges having your presents in her possession, she denies having answered your notes, or even having opened them; denies ever having given you a mark of recognition, and denies that, to her knowledge, she ever saw you in the street.”
Julius stood aghast. To have the truth so pointedly disowned, to have his word so plainly doubted, it was not to be borne. “Her retaining my love-tokens, I think, might be sufficient evidence to you that all is not exactly as you would desire,” he replied indignantly, “a woman who encourages the advances of a total stranger, in everything but words, while betrothed to another, and then, to preserve his favor, denies the whole course of her conduct, is unworthy the notice of any man who calls himself a gentleman.”
“One thing can yet be done,” said Elkinton, repressing a furious answer; “let me have those notes, and, through them, Miss Lawrenson may probably be enabled to discover by whom they were produced. If that cannot be done, I shall hold you responsible for gross misrepresentations of her character;” and he strode out, leaving his rival in possession of his room.
Matters now wore a serious aspect. Should the lady make no confession, a challenge would be the consequence, and even should she vouchsafe to explain, it would be to make him a laughing stock by proving him quizzed, coquetted and jilted. If the first were to occur, it behoved him to prepare to leave the world; if the latter, at least to leave the city. And on his way homeward, he decided to put his affairs in order. He remembered that his landlady had sent in her bill that morning, requiring money for a pressing engagement, and that, having pretty well exhausted his funds in his expensive outlays for his fair enchantress, he had concluded to apply to his uncle for means to discharge it. Accordingly he stopped to inquire for him, but not finding him at home, he left on his secretaire a note, requesting the loan of the sum he required, and saying he would call for it in the morning. He then retired to his lodgings in such a state of excitement as it had not been his lot before to experience.