|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 28
"DEAR GEORGE:--Don't be angry; it was not my fault, really it was
not. Grandfather came home just as I was leaving last night, and
was so angry, and said I should not go to the party, and I had to
sit with him all the evening. Do write to me or let me see you; do
something--"
What a load that note took off my mind! And yet, what must the poor girl
have suffered! Could the old man suspect? Singleton was true to me as
steel, I knew. He could not have whispered,--nor Barry; out that Jane,
Barry's wife. O woman! woman! what newsmongers they are! Here were Julia
and I, made miserable for life, perhaps, merely that Jane Barry might
have a good story to tell. What right had Barry to a wife? Not four
years out of college, and hardly settled in his parish. To think that I
had been fool enough to trust even him with the particulars of my
all-important secret! But here I was again interrupted, coffee-cup still
full, toast still untasted, by another missive.
"Tuesday morning.
"SIR:--I wish to see you this morning. Will you call upon me, or
appoint a time and place where I may meet you?
"Yours, JEDEDIAH WENTWORTH."
"Send word by the bearer."
"Tell Mr. Wentworth I will call at his house at eleven o'clock."
The cat was certainly out; Mrs. Barry had told, or some one else had,
who I did not know and hardly cared. The scene was to come now, and I
was almost glad of it. Poor Julia! what a time she must have had with
the old bear!
* * * * *
At eleven o'clock I was ushered into Mr. Wentworth's sitting-room. Julia
was there, but before I had even spoken to her the old gentleman came
bustling across the room, with his "Mr. Hackmatack, I suppose"; and
then followed a formal introduction between me and her, which both of us
bore with the most praiseworthy fortitude and composure, neither
evincing, even by a glance, that we had ever seen or heard of each other
before. Here was another weight off my mind and Julia's. I had wronged
poor Mrs. Barry. The secret was not out--what could he want? It very
soon appeared.
After a minute's discussion of the weather, the snow, and the
thermometer, the old gentleman drew up his chair to mine, with "I think,
sir, you are connected with the Argus office?"
"Yes, sir; I am its South American editor.'
"Yes!" roared the old man, in a sudden rage. "Sir, I wish South America
was sunk in the depths of the sea!"
"I am sure I do, sir," replied I, glancing at Julia, who did not,
however, understand me. I had not fully passed out of my last night's
distress.
My sympathizing zeal soothed the old gentleman a little, and he said
more coolly, in an undertone: "Well, sir, you are well informed, no
doubt; tell me, in strict secrecy, sir, between you and me, do you--do
you place full credit--entire confidence in the intelligence in this
morning's paper?"
"Excuse me, sir; what paper do you allude to? Ah! the Argus, I see.
Certainly, sir; I have not the least doubt that it is perfectly
correct."
"No doubt, sir! Do you mean to insult me?--Julia, I told you so; he
says there is no doubt it is true. Tell me again there is some mistake,
will you?" The poor girl had been trying to soothe him with the constant
remark of uninformed people, that the newspapers are always in the
wrong. He turned from her, and rose from his chair in a positive rage.
She was half crying. I never saw her more distressed. What did all this
mean? Were one, two, or all of us crazy?
It soon appeared. After pacing the length of the room once or twice,
Wentworth came up to me again, and, attempting to appear cool, said
between his closed lips: "Do you say you have no doubt that Rio Janeiro
is strictly blockaded?"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|