He smoked on in profound silence waiting for her to speak. But she lay back in her chair mute and all relaxed, as if the news had knocked her down.
“Come, now,” said Edward at last; “what is to be done? May I tell Julia? that is the question.”
“Not for the world,” said Mrs. Dodd, shocked into energy. “Would you blight her young life for ever, as mine is blighted?” She then assured him that, if Alfred's sad state came to Julia's ears, all her love for him would revive, and she would break with Mr. Hurd, and indeed never marry all her life. “I see no end to her misery,” continued Mrs. Dodd, with a deep sigh; “for she is full of courage; she would not shrink from a madhouse (why she visits lazar-houses every day); she would be always going to see her Alfred, and so nurse her pity and her unhappy love. No, no; let me be a widow with a living husband, if it is God's will: I have had my happy days. But my child she shall not be so withered in the flower of her days for any man that ever breathed; she shall not, I say.” The mother could utter no more for emotion.
“Well,” said Edward, “you know best. I generally make a mess of it when I disobey you. But concealments are bad things too. We used to go with our bosoms open. Ah!” (Puff.)
“Edward,” said Mrs. Dodd, after some consideration, “the best thing is to marry her to Mr. Hurd at once. He has spoken to me for her, and I sounded her.”
“Has he? Well, and what did she say?”
“She said she would rather not marry at all, but live and die with me. Then I pressed her a little, you know. Then she did say she could never marry any but a clergyman, now she had lost her poor Alfred. And then I told her I thought Mr. Hurd could make her happy, and she would make me happy if she could esteem him; and marry him.”
“Well, mamma, and what then?”
“Why then, my poor child gave me a look that haunts me still—a look of unutterable love, and reproach, and resignation, and despair, and burst out crying so piteously I could say no more. Oh! oh! oh! oh!”
“Don't you cry, mammy dear,” said Edward. “Ah, I remember when a tear was a wonder in our house.” And the fire-warrior sucked at his cigar, to stop a sigh.