It was romantic, unbusinesslike, foolish.'
'It was my fault; all my fault, Sir,' replied poor Arabella, weeping.
'Nonsense,' said the old gentleman; 'it was not your fault that
he fell in love with you, I suppose? Yes it was, though,' said the
old gentleman, looking rather slily at Arabella. 'It was your fault.
He couldn't help it.'
This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way of
paying it, or his altered manner--so much kinder than it was, at
first--or all three together, forced a smile from Arabella in the
midst of her tears.
'Where's your husband?' inquired the old gentleman, abruptly;
stopping a smile which was just coming over his own face.
'I expect him every instant, sir,' said Arabella. 'I persuaded
him to take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at
not having heard from his father.'
'Low, is he?' said the old gentlemen. 'Serve him right!'
'He feels it on my account, I am afraid,' said Arabella; 'and
indeed, Sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of
bringing him to his present condition.'
'Don't mind it on his account, my dear,' said the old gentleman.
'It serves him right.
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