Sharpe, I may as well observe, was at sea; Bayliss drowned.
Mrs. Beresford knew nothing about the matter.
Mr. Grey was positive Captain Dodd, when in command, had several thousand pounds in his cabin; Mrs. Beresford's Indian servant had been detected trying to steal it, and put in irons: believed the lady had not been told the cause—out of delicacy! and Captain Roberts had liberated him. As to whether the money had escaped the wreck—if on Captain Dodd's person, it might have been saved; but if not, it was certainly lost: for Captain Dodd to his knowledge had run on deck from the passenger's cabin the moment the ship struck, and had remained there till she went to pieces; and everything was washed out of her.
“Our own opinion,” said Mrs. Dodd, “I mean Edward's and mine, is now, that the money was lost in the ship; and you can tell your papa so if you like.”
Jane thanked her, and said she thought so too: and what a sad thing it was.
Soon after this Julia returned, pale and calm as a statue, and sat down humbly beside Jane. “Oh, pray with me,” she said: “pray that I may not hate, for to hate is to be wicked; and pray that I may not love, for to love is to be miserable.”
Mrs. Dodd retired, with her usual tact and self-denial.
Then Jane Hardie, being alone with her friend, and full of sorrow, sympathy, and faith, found words of eloquence almost divine to raise her.
With these pious consolations Julia's pride and self-respect now co-operated. Relieved of her great terror, she felt her insult to her fingers' ends: “I'll never degrade myself so far as to pine for another lady's lover,” she said. “I'll resume my duties in another sphere, and try to face the world by degrees. I am not quite alone in it; I have my mother still—and my Redeemer.”
Some tears forced their way at these brave, gentle words. Jane gave her time.