“Yes, John?” (Such is his romantic Christian name!)
“I can’t stand it, Maggie.” (Such is her ditto!)
“It is, indeed, hard to bear, John. If we only knew for certain that they are—are gone, it seems as if we could bow to His will; but this terrible and wearing uncertainty is awful. Did you make inquiry at Lloyd’s to-day?”
“Lloyd’s? You seem to think Lloyd’s can tell everything about all that happens on the sea. No, it’s of no use inquiring anywhere, or doing anything. We can only sit still and groan.”
In pursuance of this remaining consolation, the poor old gentleman groaned heavily and squeezed his forehead tighter, and gazed at the reversed book more sternly, while the old lady heaved several deep sighs. Even the cat introduced a feeble mew, as of sympathy, into the midst of its purr—the hypocrite!
“It was the earthquake that did it,” cried Mr Rigonda, starting up, and pacing the room wildly, “I’m convinced of that.”
“How can that be, John, dear, when you were in Java at the time, and our darlings were far away upon the sea?”
“How can I tell how it could be, Maggie? Do you take me for a geological philosopher, who can give reasons for every earthly thing he asserts? All I know is that these abominable earthquakes go half through the world sometimes. Pity they don’t go through the other half, split the world in two, and get rid of the subterranean fires altogether.”
“John, my dear!”
“Well, Maggie, don’t be hard on me for gettin’ irascible now and then. If you only knew what I suffer when—but forgive me. You do know what I suffer—there!”