She
therefore departed for Milsom Street, and, upon entering the
drawing-room, found Grizzy alone, and evidently in even more than usual
perturbation.
"Oh, Mary!" cried she, as her niece entered, "I'm sure I'm thankful
you're come. I was just wishing for you. You can't think how much
mischief your yesterday's visit has done. It's a thousand pities, I
declare, that ever you said a word about your marriage to Sir Sampson.
But of course I don't mean to blame you, Mary. You know you couldn't
help it; so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not make the
thing any better now. Only if Sir Sampson should die--to be sure I must
always think it was that that killed him; and I'm sure it at will soon
kill me too-such a friend--oh, Mary!" Here a burst of grief choked poor
Miss Grizzy's utterance.
"My dear aunt," said Mary, "you certainly must be mistaken. Sir Sampson
seems to retain no recollection of me. It is therefore impossible that I
could cause him any pain or agitation."
"Oh certainly!" said Grizzy. "There's no doubt Sir Sampson has quite
forgot you, Mary--and no wonder-with your being so long away; but I
daresay he'll come to know you yet. But I'm sure I hope to goodness
he'll never know you as Mrs. Lennox, Mary. That would break his heart
altogether; for you know the Lennoxes have always been the greatest
enemies of the Maclaughlans,--and of course Sir Sampson can't bear
anybody of the name, which is quite natural.
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