On the evening of that day Mr. Asherill presented himself at the cottage.
He came intending, spite of the character for sanctity he maintained, to tell many a falsehood in explanation of aught which might seem strange to Mrs. Mortomley; indeed, to put the case plainly, any falsehood which might best serve his turn.
His wife had, of course, communicated to him all Mr. Mortomley's wife had said to her, and he walked over to the cottage, thinking how, with his best manner, he might humbug the little woman Mr. Douglas had taken under his fatherly care.
But Dolly's greeting surprised him.
"Thank you very much for coming, Mr. Asherill," she said, holding out her hand; "I think we may shake hands now, for do you know, I fancy I am at the present moment a better Christian than yourself."
"It fills my soul with joy to hear you say so," he was beginning, when she interrupted him.
"I want to speak to you on business very important to myself," she said. "I want you to do something for me; I did something for you the other day—I kept silence when speech would have made your wife miserable. I did not show her John Jones' letter; I did not tell her of the first advertisement in the 'Daily News;' I did not even try to unmask you; so having established a claim on your gratitude, I want you to gratify the request of a dying woman, for I am dying," she added, speaking with the utmost calmness.
"God bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Asherill, surprised for once out of his worldly and religious conventionality.
"I do not think He will," said Dolly gravely, "unless you alter very much indeed."