The Mysteries of Montreal | Page 6

and
before long Miss Margery Montague was announced to appear in
Montreal. Her fame had preceded her thither, and Fairfax was
instructed to secure a box for the Dombey family. Dombey himself
(who had followed the career of his child) tried hard to excuse himself
from going, but his wife was not satisfied to leave him at home; he sat

in the back of the box, and as the applause grew louder and louder, he
showered costly bouquets, and other offerings on the stage, his breast
meanwhile being torn by conflicting passions. How proud he would
have been to clasp her to his heart and call her his own; but he had
willfully put her away from him, and now, even could he receive her
into his family, would her adopted father be willing to give her up
again. With flushed face and beating heart he sought the manager, and
begged to be allowed to see the fair artiste, a favor which was granted;
and, as he stood before his child, and poured forth the usual stereotyped
compliments and congratulations, he bit his lips as he thought that he
dared not press her to his heart, but was forced to speak to her in terms
of cold politeness.
On their return from the Theatre Mrs. Dombey announced her intention
of calling on the talented actress, and the following day she went,
accompanied by her daughters, to the St. Lawrence Hall, at that time
the most fashionable hotel in the city, where she was cordially received;
and the young actress made such a favorable impression on the ladies
that they invited her to dine at their house on the following day, an
invitation which was readily accepted.
Dombey was greatly moved when he heard that Miss Montague had
accepted an invitation to dinner, but there was no help for it, and, as
though to make matters worse invitations were sent to a few intimate
friends, including Mrs. Trotter. Here, then, was a painful position for
the two guilty ones: they were forced to sit and see the child whom they
had cast off fêted and honored by the woman both of them had injured.
It seemed as if a wet blanket were placed over the whole assembly:
Dombey sat moodily biting his finger-nails, and as Mrs. Trotter would
not sing and Mrs. Dombey could not, matters went very slowly indeed.
When the time came for separating, Mrs. Dombey motioned to Jacob to
see Miss Montague to her hotel, but he being deep in a fit of abstraction,
his eldest son Charles stepped forward, and before his father could
prevent him, was equipped in greatcoat and overshoes, ready for a
moonlight stroll. During the evening he had noticed that Charles was
rather attentive to the fair actress, and the thought that an intimacy

between them was possible drove him to the verge of distraction, Mrs.
Dombey noticed his strange behavior, and asked him the cause, on
which he muttered something about "Auction lunch-- infernal
champagne," and some other incoherent exclamations, altogether
unintelligible to his unsuspicious wife. When he and his paramour got
outside they walked along in gloomy silence for several minutes--at last
he addressed her: "Is it not strange that this child, whom I had thought
far removed from me and mine, should be brought even into my own
house, and eat at my table?"
"Oh, it is fearful; only think what would be the consequence if an
intimacy should spring up between her and Charles!"
"Yes, I must send him away at once."
Mrs. Trotter reminded him that this step was unnecessary, as Miss
Montague left the next day for Chicago to fulfil a professional
engagement. He heaved a sigh of relief, and then, with a passionate tug
at Mrs. Trotter's door bell, turned to go away.
"Will you not come in a while, Jack?" she said.
"No, he replied, Clara (Mrs. Dombey) would suspect something. She
looked at me very strangely this evening."
"But you will come to-morrow," rejoined the temptress.
"Yes, I will look in on my way up from the office," he said. "Good
night."
"Good night, Jack," said she.
As he got to his own door he found Charles leaning pensively against
the balustrade, gazing wistfully at the heavens.
"Well, Charlie, have you forgotten your latch-key?"
"N--no Sir," stammered Charles, "but it is so confoundedly hot inside
that I did not care to go in."

Dombey reflected that as the thermometer registered only about ten
degrees Fahrenheit he had but to open his window to attain as low a
temperature as was consistent with comfort; however, he said nothing,
and they both walked upstairs.
"Good night, Charlie."
"Good night, Father."
And they entered their respective chambers.
I have heard it said that if two men are placed in one