“I feared to frighten you,” said Mr. Hardie, and hung his head.
“I see it all,” she cried “those wicked men with their dark words have imposed on you. Bring him to me that I may reconcile you all, and end all this misery ere I go hence and be no more seen.”
“Oh, my child, don't talk so,” cried Mr. Hardie, trembling. “Think of your poor father.”
“I do,” she cried, “I do. Oh, papa, I lie here between two worlds, and see them both so clear. Trust to me: and, if you love me——”
“If I love you, Jane? Better than all the world twice told.”
“Then don't refuse me this one favour: the last, perhaps, I shall ever ask you. I want my brother here before it is too late. Tell him he must come to his little sister, who loves him dearly, and—is dying.
“Oh no! no! no!” cried the agonised father, casting everything to the winds. “I will. He shall be here in twelve hours. Only promise me to bear up. Have a strong will; have courage. You shall have Alfred, you shall have anything you like on earth, anything that money can get you. What am I saying? I have no money; it is all gone. But I have a father's heart. Madam, Mrs. Dodd!” She came directly.
“Can you give me paper? No, I won't trust to a letter. I'll send off a special messenger this moment. It is for my son, madam. He will be here to-morrow morning. God knows how it will all end. But how can I refuse my dying child? Oh, madam, you are good, kind, forgiving; keep my poor girl alive for me: keep telling her Alfred is coming; she cares more for him than for her poor heart-broken father.”
And the miserable man rushed out, leaving Mrs. Dodd in tears for him.
He was no sooner gone than Julia came in; and clasped her mother, and trembled on her bosom. Then Mrs. Dodd knew she had overheard Mr. Hardie's last words.