'Then;--then--' She went no further in her speech; but Dalrymple assented by a slight motion of his head, and she had been informed sufficiently that her husband had perished by his own hand. 'What am Ito do?' she said. 'Oh, Conway, you must tell me. Was there ever so miserable a woman! Was it--poison?'
He got up and walked quickly across the room and back again to the place where she was sitting. 'Never mind about that now. You shall know all that in time. Do not ask me any questions about that. If I were you Ithink I would go to bed. You will be better there than up, and this shock will make you sleep.'
'No,' she said. 'I will not go to bed. How should I know that that man would not come and kill me? I believe he murdered Dobbs;--I do. You are not going to leave me, Conway?'
'I think I had better, for a while. There are things which should be done. Shall I send one of the women for you?'
'There is not one of them that cares for me in the least. Oh, Conway, do not go; not yet. I will not be left alone in the house with him. You will be very cruel if you go and leave me now--when you have so often said that you--that you--that you were my friend.' And now, at last, she began to weep.
'I think it will be best,' he said, 'that I should go to Mrs Van Siever.
If I can manage it, I will get Clara to come to you.'
'I do not want her,' said Mrs Broughton. 'She is a heartless cold creature, and I do not want to have her near me. My poor husband was ruined among them;--yes, ruined among them. It has all been done that she may marry that horrid man and live here in this house. I have known ever so long that he has not been safe among them.'
'You need fear nothing from Clara,' said Dalrymple, with some touch of anger in his voice.
'Of course you will say so. I can understand that very well. And it is natural that you should wish to be with her. Pray go.'
Then he sat beside her, and took her hand, and endeavoured to speak to her so seriously, that she herself might become serious, and if it might be possible, in some degree contemplative. He told her how necessary it was that she should have some woman near her in her trouble, and explained to her that as far as he knew her female friends, there would be no one who would be so considerate with her as Clara Van Siever. She at one time mentioned the name of Miss Demolines; but Dalrymple altogether opposed the notion of sending for that lady--expressing his opinion that the amiable Madalina had done all in her power to create quarrels between Mrs Broughton and her husband and between Dobbs Broughton and Mrs Van Siever. And he spoke his opinion very fully about Miss Demolines. 'And yet you liked her once,' said Mrs Broughton. 'Inever liked her,' said Dalrymple with energy. 'But all that matters nothing now. Of course you can send for her if you please; but I do not think her trustworthy, and I will not willingly come in contact with her.' Then Mrs Broughton gave him to understand that of course she must give way, but that in giving way she felt herself to be submitting to ill-usage which is the ordinary lot of women, and to which she, among women, had been specially subjected. She did not exactly say as much, fearing that if she did he would leave her altogether; but that was the gist of he plaints and wails, and final acquiescence.
'And are you going?' she said, catching hold of his arm.
'I will employ myself altogether and only about your affairs, till I see you again.'
'But I want you to stay.'
'It would be madness. Look here;--lie down till Clara comes or till Ireturn. Do not go beyond this room and your own. If she cannot come this evening I will return. Good-bye now. I will see the servants as I go out, and tell them what ought to be told.'
'Oh, Conway,' she said, clutching hold of him again. 'I know that you despise me.'
'I do not despise you, and I will be as good a friend to you as I can.
God bless you.' Then he went, and as he descended the stairs he could not refrain from telling himself that he did in truth despise her.
His first object was to find Musselboro, and to dismiss that gentleman from the house. For though he himself did not attribute to Mrs Van Siever's favourite any of those terrible crimes and potentialities for crime with which Mrs Dobbs Broughton had invested him, still he thought it reasonable that the poor woman upstairs should not be subjected to the necessity of either seeing him or hearing him. But Musselboro had gone, and Dalrymple could not learn from the head woman-servant whom he saw, whether before going he had told to anyone in the house the tale of the catastrophe which had happened in the City. Servants are wonderful actors, looking often as though they knew nothing when they knew everything--as though they understood nothing, when they understood all.
Dalrymple made known all that was necessary, and the discreet upper servant listened to the tale, with the proper amount of awe and horror and commiseration. 'Shot hisself in the City;--laws! You'll excuse me, sir, but we all know'd as master was coming to no good.' But she promised to do her best with her mistress--and kept her promise. It is seldom that servants are not good in such straits as that.
From Mrs Broughton's house Dalrymple went directly to Mrs Van Siever's, and learned that Musselboro had been there about half an hour before, and had then gone off in a cab with Mrs Van Siever. It was now nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and no one in the house knew when Mrs Van Siever would be back. Miss Van Siever was out, and had been out when Mr Musselboro had called, but was expected every minute. Conway therefore said that he would call again, and on returning found Clara alone. She had not then heard a word of the fate of Dobbs Broughton. Of course she would go at once to Mrs Broughton, and if necessary stay with her during the night. She wrote a line at once to her mother, saying where she was, and went across to Mrs Broughton leaning on Dalrymple's arm. 'Be good to her,' said Conway, as he left her at the door. 'I will,' said Clara. 'Iwill be as kind as nature will allow me.' 'And remember,' said Conway, whispering into her ear as he pressed her hand at leaving her, 'that you are the all the world to me.' It was perhaps not a proper time for an expression of love, but Clara Van Siever forgave the impropriety.
