In a moment of thoughtlessness I
have allowed myself to forget the horrible position in which I am. But
now I recall it. I'll crush down my feelings, and be a man again. I'll
see the child-angel once more; once more feast my soul over her sweet
and exquisite loveliness; once more get a glance from her tender,
innocent, and guileless eyes, and then away to South America."
"You said your wife took another name."
"Yes."
"What was it? Do you know it?"
"Oh yes; it was _Willoughby_"
"_Willoughby_!" cried Hawbury, with a start; "why, that's the name of
my Ethel's friend, at Montreal. Could it have been the same?"
"Pooh, man! How is that possible? Willoughby is not an uncommon name.
It's not more likely that your Willoughby and mine are the same than
it is that your Ethel is the one I met at Vesuvius. It's only a
coincidence, and not a very wonderful one, either."
"It seems con-foundedly odd, too," said Hawbury, thoughtfully.
"Willoughby? Ethel? Good Lord! But pooh! What rot? As though they
_could_ be the same. Preposterous! By Jove!"
And Hawbury stroked away the preposterous idea through his long,
pendent whiskers.
[Illustration: "SHE CAUGHT MINNIE IN HER ARMS."]
CHAPTER IX.
NEW EMBARRASSMENTS.
Mrs. Willoughby had been spending a few days with a friend whom she
had found in Naples, and on her return was greatly shocked to hear of
Minnie's adventure on Vesuvius. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel had a story
to tell which needed no exaggerations and amplifications to agitate
her strongly.
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