Victorious so far, Mr. Hardie had still one pressing anxiety: Dr. Sampson's placard: this had been renewed, and stared him everywhere in the face. Every copy of it he encountered made him shiver. If he had been a man of impulse, he would have torn it down wherever he saw it; but he knew that would not do. However, learning from Jane, who had it from old Betty, who had it from Sarah, that Mrs. and Miss Dodd would leave for London the day before the sale, and Edward the day after it, he thought he might venture in the busy intermediate time to take some liberties with it. This he did with excellent tact and judgment. Peggy and a billsticker were seen in conference, and, soon after, the huge bills of a travelling circus were pasted right over both the rival advertisements in which the name of Hardie figured. The consequence was, Edward raised no objection: he was full of the sale for one thing; but I suspect he was content to see his own false move pasted over on such easy terms.
One morning Peggy brought in the letters, and Jane saw one in Alfred's handwriting. She snatched it up, and cried “Papa, from Alfred!” And she left off making the tea, while her father opened it with comparative composure.
This coolness, however, did not outlast the perusal: “The young ruffian!” said he; “would you believe it Jenny, he accuses me of being the cause of his last business.”
“Let me see, papa.”
He held her out the letter; but hesitated and drew it back. “My dear, it would give you pain to see your poor father treated so. Here's a specimen: 'What could they expect but that the son of a sharper would prove a traitor? You stole her money; I her affections, of which I am unworthy.' Now what do you think of that?”
“Unhappy Alfred!” said Jane. “No, papa, I would not read it, if you are insulted in it. But where is he?”
“The letter is dated Paris. See!” And he showed her the date. “But he says here he is coming back to London directly; and he orders me in the most peremptory way to be ready with my accounts, and pay him over his fortune. Well, he is alive, at all events: really my good, kind, interfering, pragmatical friend Sampson, with his placards, made me feel uneasy, more uneasy than I would own to you, Jenny.”
“Unhappy Alfred!” cried Jane, with the tears in her eyes; “and poor papa!”
“Oh, never mind me,” said Mr. Hardie; “now that I know no harm has come to him, I really don't care a straw: I have got one child that loves me, and that I love.”
“Ah yes, dear, dear papa, and that will always love you, and never, never disobey you in small things or great.” She rose from the table and sealed this with a pious kiss; and, when she sat down with a pink flush on her delicate cheek, his hard eye melted and dwelt on her with beaming tenderness. His heart yearned over her, and a pang went through it: to think that he must deceive even her, the one sweet soul that loved him!