Hardie, old fellow, we are very unhappy, all of us. We are
too unhappy to quarrel."
These kind words soothed Alfred's sore heart. He brightened up and
entered the drawing-room. He found Julia standing in the middle of it,
the colour of ashes. Alfred was alarmed. "You are unwell, dearest," he
cried; "you will faint. What have I done with my ungoverned temper?" He
moved towards her with a face full of concern.
"No, Alfred," said she solemnly, "I am not the least ill. It is sorrow,
deep sorrow for one I love better than all the world. Sit down beside me,
my poor Alfred; and--God help me to speak to him!"
Alfred began to feel dire misgivings.
"Yes," said she, "I love you too well to let any hand but mine wound
you." And here she took his sinewy hand with her soft palm. "I want to
soften it in the telling: and ah, how can I? Oh, why can I not throw
myself body and soul between you and all trouble, all sorrow?"
"My Julia," said Alfred gravely, "something has happened to Jane."
"Yes, Alfred. She met with a terrible accident."
"Ah!"
"She was struck by an unfortunate man; he was not in his right mind.
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