The Mysteries of Montreal | Page 7

Charlotte Fuhrer
at first was barely possible was now become highly probable goaded him almost to madness. He rose and dressed himself, going quietly out of the front door into Sherbrooke street. Along the street he went at a fearful pace, till, almost faint from want of breath, he turned down the hill towards the city, habit bringing him along the route he was accustomed to take to his office. As he turned the corner of St. James street, he saw (for there were few persons abroad) a young man walking moodily up and down on the side opposite the St. Lawrence Hall; he turned as if he had seen an apparition, and ran rather than walked in the direction of his own home.
Next day Miss Montague departed for the West, Mrs. and Miss Dombey accompanied by Charles went to see her off at the Depot, and with many assurances of a future meeting, should she ever return to Montreal, they separated as the train moved slowly past the platform. As the drawing-room car was just clearing the station, Miss Montague held a piece of paper out of the window, which Charles caught eagerly and placed in his pocket-book. His mother and sister chaffing him on receiving tender messages from the fair artiste, he laughingly produced it.
It was nothing more nor less than a page of an old timetable, and both Mrs. and Miss Dombey laughed at the strange souvenir Miss Montague had left behind her. When they got home, however, Charles carefully opened the paper and observed that opposite each of the cities on her route Miss Montague had placed a figure in pencil thus:--Chicago, 4; Detroit, 2; Toledo, 2; Toronto, 3; New York; 6, Boston, 6. This, though unintelligible to his mother and sister, informed Charles that Miss Montague would go first to Chicago and remain four days, and afterwards to the other cities mentioned, and that he might write or meet her there as opportunity afforded.
That day matters resumed their normal condition in the Dombey family; Jacob breathed freely now that his child had returned to the country of her adoption, and his wife and family were happy because of his improved spirits and appearance. Charles had apparently settled down to business as usual, and Mesdames Trotter and Dombey drove out together as of old. In a few weeks, however, Charles asked his father permission to go for his holidays; a friend having invited him to spend a few weeks at Nahant an island near Boston. There being nothing to keep him in Montreal he had no difficulty in procuring consent, and he departed, taking fishing tackle enough to have supplied the whole Atlantic coast for a season. When his father learned the real object of his visit to Boston, he raved like a madman; he came to see me, and told me the whole story, most of which I had learnt before from other sources and he persuaded me to go to Boston and to take on my self the painful duty of informing Miss Montague who and what she really was, and why it was impossible that she could ever marry Charles Dombey. The poor girl was almost heart-broken, for she had learnt to love her stepbrother dearly, and now she would have to be separated from him entirely. It was not for herself, however, that she mourned the most, it was for him, when he should learn of the wide gulf which separated them from each other. He never did learn it, however; Miss Montague consented (for his sake) to accept an engagement in England, and to trust in years to soften the blow which had smitten her so severely. She wrote to Charles, telling him that, for reasons unexplained, she never could be his wife, although she loved him dearly, and that as there was no use striving against fate, she had bowed to the inevitable, and taken a foreign engagement. At first Charles was desperately cut up, but time, that physician par excellence, healed his wounds, and he is now married to a respectable lady of this city; deservedly successful in his business, and with a stainless reputation. Jacob Dombey staggered along under his load for years, but, unable to contain himself, he one day confessed the affair to his wife, who, instead of denouncing him as the wretch he was, pitied and sympathized with; aye, and not only that, she received his mistress into her house as before, rather than make public his heartless conduct. Truly such an angel never received such heartless treatment, or was so little appreciated. It broke her heart however, and over her grave Dombey resolved to cast Mrs. Trotter off forever, and send her away from the city. He accordingly arranged with her to take an annual allowance
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