learned the real object of his visit to Boston, he raved like a
madman; he came to see me, and told me the whole story, most of
which I had learnt before from other sources and he persuaded me to
go to Boston and to take on my self the painful duty of informing
Miss Montague who and what she really was, and why it was impossible
that she could ever marry Charles Dombey. The poor girl was almost
heart-broken, for she had learnt to love her stepbrother dearly, and
now she would have to be separated from him entirely. It was not for
herself, however, that she mourned the most, it was for him, when he
should learn of the wide gulf which separated them from each other.
He never did learn it, however; Miss Montague consented (for his sake)
to accept an engagement in England, and to trust in years to soften
the blow which had smitten her so severely. She wrote to Charles,
telling him that, for reasons unexplained, she never could be his
wife, although she loved him dearly, and that as there was no use
striving against fate, she had bowed to the inevitable, and taken a
foreign engagement. At first Charles was desperately cut up, but time,
that physician _par excellence_, healed his wounds, and he is now
married to a respectable lady of this city; deservedly successful in
his business, and with a stainless reputation. Jacob Dombey
staggered along under his load for years, but, unable to contain
himself, he one day confessed the affair to his wife, who, instead
of denouncing him as the wretch he was, pitied and sympathized with;
aye, and not only that, she received his mistress into her house as
before, rather than make public his heartless conduct. Truly such an
angel never received such heartless treatment, or was so little
appreciated. It broke her heart however, and over her grave Dombey
resolved to cast Mrs. Trotter off forever, and send her away from
the city. He accordingly arranged with her to take an annual
allowance and go to New York with her family, vowing that he could