“What nonsense you talk!” cried his irreverent spouse. “C—— is Coldstream, and M——n Moulmein; it does not need two grains of sense to understand that.”
Cottle put on his glasses, and stretched out his hand for the paper. Mrs. Cottle, as she poured out the coffee, again exclaimed, “Bless my heart!”
After breakfast was concluded the dame sallied forth to communicate the exciting news to others. The first person whom she chanced to meet was the chaplain.
“O Mr. Lawrence, have you seen the horrible news about Mr. Coldstream?” she cried, hoping that she might be the first person to impart it to the clergyman.
“I have seen the papers,” said Mark very gravely. He wished to pass on, but Mrs. Cottle was determined to have out her say.
“To think of such a wretch kneeling in the same church as ourselves! A felon having the audacity to dine with respectable people!”
Mrs. Cottle would have rattled on, but she was stopped by the sternest rebuke which she had ever heard from the lips of the chaplain: “Judge not, that ye be not judged; condemn not, lest ye be condemned.” And with these words Mark Lawrence went on his way, his brow knitted as if from pain, and a heavy weight on his heart.
The paragraph in the papers had also been read by Dr. Pinfold, as he was lounging in his easy-chair before going out to make his round amongst his patients. He had perused a column and a half of political news before his eye was attracted by the paragraph headed in large capitals which had at once arrested the attention of Mrs. Cottle. Pinfold’s interest in Io was much stronger than hers, and, though less loudly expressed, his indignation against her husband was proportionately greater.
“The villain! and he dared to propose marriage to her; to offer the sweetest girl in England a blood-stained hand!” exclaimed the doctor, flinging down the paperand rising from his seat. “I suspected him of being a madman; I never thought of his being a murderer. My poor Io! innocent, unfortunate victim, if I can I will rescue you yet.”
So as Io, just about to quit her house, was buttoning on her boots, a servant placed a letter on the table before her.