“It really is too amusing,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me you do not know who Mrs. Dudley was?”
“No; who the deuce was Mrs. Dudley?” inquired the other, testily.
“And she never has enlightened you?” persisted Mr. Croft.
“If she had enlightened me I should have known, I suppose, and I do not know who or what she was, excepting a simpleton to marry Dudley. As you seem so well informed, tell me this wonderful secret. Who was Mrs. Dudley?”
“Heather Bell,” answered Mr. Croft.
“You do not mean that?”
“I do, upon my honour. Miss Hope told me and my wife, and explained that it was you who selected the name which seems to suit her so admirably.”
Mr. Stewart did not take any direct notice of this information; he only resumed his walk over the sands, saying to himself,—
“And so that is Heather Bell—so that is Heather Bell!”
“You understand now why my wife regards her with but small favour,” continued Mr. Croft; “indeed, there is another reason why, perhaps, mutually the two ladies dislike and distrust each other. Years ago, Dudley and Miss Laxton were engaged. I knew nothing of it when I met her—when I proposed to her—when she accepted me; but the engagement was a fact, nevertheless. I am so devotedly attached to her now, that there can be no indiscretion in merely alluding to her one fault—a love of money. I am confident that she liked Dudley better than she ever liked me; but I, being the richer of the two, gained the prize. Of course, it is not in a woman’s nature, at least it is not in Arabella’s nature, to look kindly on the wife whom the man she jilted afterwards married. On the other hand, all the world knows Dudley does not appreciate quite so highly the blessing he has gained, as the blessing he has lost; and for that reason I fancy poor Mrs. Dudley does not feel particularly comfortable in my Arabella’s society. Further, there may be a little mutual jealousy, both being above the average in appearance. Now, you have the exact state of the case, so far as I know it.”