It is perhaps hardly necessary to add that I kept the Minister in ignorance of my correspondence with Mr. Dunboyne. I was too well acquainted with my friend’s sensitive and self-tormenting nature to let him know that a relative of the murderess was living, and was aware that she had left a child.
A last event remains to be related, before I close these pages.
During the year of which I am now writing, our Chaplain added one more to the many examples that I have seen of his generous readiness to serve his friends. He had arranged to devote his annual leave of absence to a tour among the English Lakes, when he received a letter from a clergyman resident in London, whom he had known from the time when they had been school-fellows. This old friend wrote under circumstances of the severest domestic distress, which made it absolutely necessary that he should leave London for a while. Having failed to find a representative who could relieve him of his clerical duties, he applied to the Chaplain to recommend a clergyman who might be in a position to help him. My excellent colleague gave up his holiday-plans without hesitation, and went to London himself.
On his return, I asked if he had seen anything of some acquaintances of his and of mine, who were then visitors to the metropolis. He smiled significantly when he answered me.
“I have a card to deliver from an acquaintance whom you have not mentioned,” he said; “and I rather think it will astonish you.”
It simply puzzled me. When he gave me the card, this is what I found printed on it:
“MRS. TENBRUGGEN (OF SOUTH BEVELAND).”
“Well?” said the Chaplain.
“Well,” I answered; “I never even heard of Mrs. Tenbruggen, of South Beveland. Who is she?”
“I married the lady to a foreign gentleman, only last week, at my friend’s church,” the Chaplain replied. “Perhaps you may remember her maiden name?”