"Well, I had got rid of Madam Waldoborough's carriage, and learned a lesson which, I think, will last me the rest of my life. If ever again I run after great folks, or place myself in a false position through folly or cowardice, may the Fates confound me! But I must haste and tell you the curious dénouement of the affair.
"I was not so anxious to cultivate Madam's acquaintance after riding in her carriage, you may well believe. For months I did not see her. At last my Todworth cousin and her yellow-complexioned husband came to town, and I went with my uncle to call upon them at Meurice's Hotel. They were delighted to see me, and fondly pressed me to come and take a room adjoining their suite, as I did at Cox's. A card was brought in. My cousin smiled, and directed that the visitor should be admitted. There was a rustle,—a volume of flounces came sweeping in,—a well-remembered voice cried, 'My dear Louise!'—and my Todworth cousin was clasped in the buxom embrace of Madam Waldoborough.
"But what did I behold? Following in Madam's wake, like a skiff towed at the stern of a rushing side-wheel steamer, a dapper little old man, a withered little old man, a gayly smiling little old man, whose countenance was somehow strangely familiar to me. I considered him a moment, and the scene in the Rue St. Lazare, with the coupé driver and the man with the pocket-book, flashed across my mind. This was the man! I remembered him well; but he had evidently forgotten me.
"Madam released Louise from her divine large arms, and greeted the yellow-complexioned one. Then she was introduced to my uncle. Then the bride said, 'You know my cousin Herbert, I believe?'
"'Ah, yes!' says the Waldoborough, who had glanced at me curiously, but doubtfully, 'I recognize him now!' giving me a smile and two fingers. 'I thought I had seen him somewhere. You have been to one or two of my receptions, haven't you?'
"'I have not yet had that pleasure,' said I.
"'Ah, I remember now! You called one morning, didn't you? And we went somewhere together,—where did we go?—or was it some other gentleman?'
"I said I thought it must have been some other gentleman; for indeed I could hardly believe now that I was that fool.
"'Very likely,' said she; 'for I see so many,—my receptions, you know, Louise, are always so crowded! But, dear me, what am I thinking of? Where are you, my love?' and the steamer brought the skiff alongside.
"'Louise, and gentlemen,' then said my lady, with a magnificent courtesy, the very wind of which I feared would blow him away,—but he advanced triumphantly, bowing and smiling extravagantly,—'allow me the happiness of presenting to you Mr. John Waldoborough, my husband.'