The novice in woman's wiles set himself to comfort her--in vain; to question her--in vain at first; but by degrees she allowed him to learn that it was for him she mourned; and so they proceeded on the old, old plan, the man extorting from the woman bit by bit just so much as she wanted all along to say, and would have poured in a stream if let quite alone.
He drew from his distressed friend that Dr. Wolf for reasons of his own had made special inquiries about the Dodds; that she had fortunately or unfortunately heard of this, and had questioned the person employed, hoping to hear something that might comfort Alfred. "Instead of that,"said she, "I find Miss Dodd is like most girls; out of sight is out of mind with her.""What do you mean?" said Alfred, trembling suddenly.
"Do not ask me. What a weak fool I was to let you see I was unhappy for you.""The truth is the truth," gasped Alfred; "tell me at once.""Must I? I am afraid you will hate me; for I should hate any one who told me your faults. Well, then--if I must-- Miss Dodd has a beau.""It is a lie!" cried Alfred furiously.
"I wish it was. But she has two in fact, both of them clergymen. However, one seems the favourite; at least they are engaged to be married; it is Mr. Hurd, the curate of the parish she lives in. By what I hear she is one of the religious ones; so perhaps that has brought the pair to an understanding."At these words a cold sickness rushed all over Alfred, beginning at his heart. He stood white and stupefied a moment; then, in the anguish of his heart, broke out into a great and terrible cry; it was like a young lion wounded with a poisoned shaft.
Then he was silent, and stood stock still, like petrified despair.
Mrs. Archbold was prepared for an outburst: but not of this kind. His anguish was so unlike a woman's that it staggered her. Her good and bad angels, to use an expressive though somewhat too poetical phrase, battled for her. She had an impulse to earn his gratitude for life, to let him out of the asylum ere Julia should be Mrs. Hurd, and even liberty come too late for true love. She looked again at the statue of grief by her side; and burst out crying in earnest.
This was unfortunate. Shallow pity exuding in salt water leaves not enough behind to gush forth in good deeds.
She only tried to undo her own work in part; to comfort him a little with commonplaces. She told him in a soothing whisper there were other women in the world besides this inconstant girl, others who could love him as he deserved.
He made no answer to all she could say, but just waved his hand once impatiently. Petty consolation seemed to sting him.
She drew back discouraged; but only for a while. He was silent.