I am as black as the very
mischief, and that sugar wouldn't melt in other men's mouths. Other
men are just as bad as I am,--and a good deal worse too. You believe
that there is nobody on earth like Paul Montague.' Hetta blushed, but
said nothing. She was not yet in a condition to boast of her lover
before her brother, but she did, in very truth, believe that but few
young men were as true-hearted as Paul Montague. 'I suppose you'd be
surprised to hear that Master Paul is engaged to marry an American
widow living at Islington.'

'Mr Montague--engaged--to marry--an American widow! I don't believe
it.'

'You'd better believe it if it's any concern of yours, for it's true.
And it's true too that he travelled about with her for ever so long in
the United States, and that he had her down with him at the hotel at
Lowestoft about a fortnight ago. There's no mistake about it.'

'I don't believe it,' repeated Hetta, feeling that to say even as much
as that was some relief to her. It could not be true. It was
impossible that the man should have come to her with such a lie in his
mouth as that. Though the words astounded her, though she felt faint,
almost as though she would fall in a swoon, yet in her heart of hearts
she did not believe it. Surely it was some horrid joke,--or perhaps
some trick to divide her from the man she loved. 'Felix, how dare you
say things so wicked as that to me?'

'What is there wicked in it? If you have been fool enough to become
fond of the man, it is only right you should be told. He is engaged to
marry Mrs Hurtle, and she is lodging with one Mrs Pipkin in Islington.
I know the house, and could take you there to-morrow, and show you the
woman. There,' said he, 'that's where she is;'--and he wrote Mrs
Hurtle's name down on a scrap of paper.

'It is not true,' said Hetta, rising from her seat, and standing
upright. 'I am engaged to Mr Montague, and I am sure he would not
treat me in that way.'

'Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me,' said Felix, jumping up.
'If he has done that, it is time that I should interfere. As true as I
stand here, he is engaged to marry a woman called Mrs Hurtle whom he
constantly visits at that place in Islington.'

'I do not believe it,' said Hetta, repeating the only defence for her
lover which was applicable at the moment.

'By George, this is beyond a joke. Will you believe it if Roger
Carbury says it's true? I know you'd believe anything fast enough
against