least welcome visitors was a Monsieur
Dupont, a man of polished manners certainly, the superficial polish of
the Frenchman, but of no other attraction, and even in that there was
something about him to Mary particularly repulsive. He had seen some
threescore years; his countenance, in general inexpressive, at times
betrayed that strong and evil passions were working at his heart. He was
said to be very rich, though some reports had gone about that his
fortune had all been amassed by gambling in no very honourable manner.
With this man Mr. Greville was continually associated; they were seldom
seen apart, and being thus the favourite of the master, he was
constantly at the house. To Mrs. Greville as to Mary he was an object of
indefinable yet strong aversion, and willingly would they have always
denied themselves, and thus escaped his odious presence. Once they had
done so, but the storm of fury that burst from Mr. Greville intimidated
both; they felt some little concession on their parts was demanded to
preserve peace, and Monsieur Dupont continued his visits.

To this man, publicly known as unprincipled, selfish, incapable of one
exalted or generous feeling, Greville had sworn to give his gentle and
unoffending child; this man he sternly commanded Mary to receive as her
husband, and prepare herself for her marriage within a month.

As if a thunderbolt had fallen, Mary and her mother listened to these
terrible words, and scarcely had the latter sufficient courage to
inform her unpitying husband of their child's engagement with Herbert
Hamilton. For Mary's sake, she struggled and spoke, but her fears were
not without foundation. A horrid imprecation on Mr. Hamilton and his
family burst instantly from the lips of the now infuriated Greville; he
had chosen for many years to fancy himself deeply injured by that
gentleman, and, with an oath too fearful to be written, he solemnly
swore that Mary should never be the wife of Herbert; he would rather see
her dead. Louder and louder grew his passion, but Mrs. Greville heard
him not. Mary had dropped as if lifeless at his feet. She had sprung up
as if to arrest the imprecation on her father's lips, but when his
dreadful oath reached her ears, her senses happily forsook her, and it
was long, very long before she woke to consciousness and thought. Mrs.
Greville hung in agony over the couch of her unhappy child; scarcely
could she pray or wish for her recovery, for she knew there was