for you—sixpence a quarter of an hour,—remember that." In a minute or two Clara came out to her, and then Mrs. Van Siever and Miss Van Siever took their departure.
"Oh, Conway, what am I to do? what am I to do?" said Mrs. Dobbs Broughton. Dalrymple stood perplexed for a few minutes, and could not tell her what she was to do. She was in such a position that it was very hard to tell her what to do. "Do you believe, Conway, that he is really ruined?"
"What am I to say? How am I to know?"
"I see that you believe it," said the wretched woman.
"I cannot but believe that there is something of truth in what this woman says. Why else should she come here with such a story?" Then there was a pause, during which Mrs. Broughton was burying her face on the arm of the sofa. "I'll tell you what I'll do," continued he. "I'll go into the City, and make inquiry. It can hardly be but what I shall learn the truth there."
Then there was another pause, at the end of which Mrs. Broughton got up from the sofa.
"Tell me," said she;—"what do you mean to do about that girl?"
"You heard me ask her to be my wife?"
"I did. I did!"
"Is it not what you intended?"
"Do not ask me. My mind is bewildered. My brain is on fire! Oh, Conway!"
"Shall I go into the City as I proposed?" said Dalrymple, who felt that he might at any rate improve the position of circumstances by leaving the house.
"Yes;—yes; go into the City! Go anywhere. Go. But stay! Oh, Conway!" There was a sudden change in her voice as she spoke. "Hark,—there he is, as sure as life." Then Conway listened, and heard a footstep on the stairs, as to which he had then but little doubt that it was the footstep of Dobbs Broughton. "O heavens! he is tipsy!" exclaimed Mrs. Broughton; "and what shall we do?" Then Dalrymple took her hand and pressed it, and left the room, so that he might meet the husband on the stairs. In the one moment that he had for reflection he thought it was better that there should be no concealment.
