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Updated: June 26, 2025
Minge arched his heavy brows, and the sternly drawn lines of his large mouth relaxed, and threatened to run into curves that belonged to the ludicrous, as he turned his twinkling eyes upon his sister's face. "What extraordinary hallucinations attack even sage, sedate, middle-aged men?
"I believe I have nothing to communicate just now," was the quiet and unsatisfactory answer, as he drew a pencil from his pocket and made some numeral annotations on the margin of the statistics. "Surely, Merton, you are not angry with your poor Constance?" Merton Minge lowered his paper, restored the pencil to his vest pocket, and wheeling his chair forward, brought himself closer to the couch.
Three months have elapsed, and no tidings have reached Miss Minge, who remains in Paris for the purpose of complying with her brother's dying request." "My poor, perverse Salome! To what desperate extremities has she been reduced by her unfortunate wilfulness. Gerard, will you tell me frankly your own conjecture concerning her fate?" "If alive, I believe she has left Europe."
Minge took the end of her scarf, and as he toyed with the fringe, sighed heavily. "Of course you are forced to abandon your contemplated début in Paris?" "Yes. A début minus a voice, does not tempt me. Ah! how bright the future looked when I sang for the agent of the Opera-House, and found myself engaged for the season. How changed, how cheerless all things seem now."
A bundle of unfinished needlework was hidden under her shawl, and they soon ascertained that she was delirious from some low typhus fever that had utterly prostrated her. For several weeks she was dangerously ill, and was just able to sit up when Mr. Minge discovered her.
Minge, it is despair that crouches at my heart, not hope that shuts its portals against your earnest petition; for a barrier wider, deeper than a hundred oceans divides me from my idol, who loves, and ere this, is the husband of another." She did not observe the glow that once more mantled his cheek, and fired his eyes, until he exclaimed with unusual fervor, "Thank God!
Despite the fact that forty years had left their whitening touches on his head and luxuriant beard, Merton Minge, who had never been handsome, even in youth, was sufficiently agreeable in appearance to render him an object of deep interest in the circle where he moved.
Minge would not abandon the hope of finally persuading her to accept his hand, but next day when he called to inquire about her health, and to request the sisters to watch her movements, and prevent her escape, he was shocked to learn that she had disappeared the previous night, leaving a few lines written in pencil on a handkerchief, in which she had wrapped her superb suit of hair.
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