“Well, it’s over now,” replied the Dominé, “and he’s thinking of other things. In fact, that’s what I came in about. He has just been asking me to consent to his engagement.”
“I knew it,” said Miss Mopius, and sank back on the sofa-cushion.
The Dominé started. “What!” he cried. “Did he speak to you first?”
“Roderigue,” replied the lady, with spirit, “I am old enough—I mean I am not so young that his speaking to me could be considered improper.”
“No, indeed,” began the puzzled Dominé.
“I gave him the answer of my heart, as I doubt not he told you. You will give us your blessing, my brother?”
The Dominé rose to his feet.
“Hearing you talk,” he said, testily, “one might conclude it was you had made the match.”
At this monstrous accusation the poor creature burst into tears. “To think,” she sobbed, “that my poor Mary’s husband should say such a thing of me. Roderigue, I wonder that dear saint did not teach you what a woman’s feelings are!”
Of all means by which Josine unconsciously tormented the pastor there was none like her allusions to his departed wife. Moments could be produced in the widower’s calm day when that brave soldier might have felt it in him to strike a woman.