"It would seem," returned Eve, assuming a solemnity suited to a matter of
interest, "that our secret is discovered. While we were indulging our
curiosity about this unfortunate ship, Mr. Dodge was gratifying the
laudable industry of the Active Inquirer, by prying into our state-rooms."
"This meanness is impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Effingham.
"Nay," said John, "no meanness is impossible to a demagogue,--a pretender
to things of which he has even no just conception,--a man who lives to
envy and traduce; in a word, a _quasi_ gentleman. Let us hear what Eve
has to say."
"My information is from Ann Sidley, who saw him in the act. Now the kind
letter you wrote my father, cousin Jack, just before we left London, and
which you wrote because you would not trust that honest tongue of yours to
speak the feelings of that honest heart, is the subject of my daily study;
not on account of its promises, you will believe me, but on account of the
strong affection it displays to a girl who is not worthy of one half you
feel and do for her."
"Pshaw!"
"Well, let it then be pshaw! I had read that letter this very morning, and
carelessly left it on my table. This letter Mr. Dodge, in his undying
desire to lay everything before the public, as becomes his high vocation,
and as in duty bound, has read; and misconstruing some of the phrases, as
will sometimes happen to a zealous circulator of news, he has drawn the
conclusion that I am to be made a happy woman as soon as we reach America,
by being converted from Miss Eve Effingham into Mrs.
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