This reply was very comforting to Mrs. Dodd.

"Shall I write to him, or do you feel strong enough?"

"I feel that, if I do, I may affront him. He had no right to pretend that
his father would consent. You write, and then we shall not lose our
dignity though we are insulted."

"I feel so weary, mamma. Life seems ended.

"I could have loved him well. And now show me how to tear him out of my
heart; or what will become of me?"

While Mrs. Dodd wrote to Alfred Hardie, Julia sank down and laid her head
on her mother's knees. The note was shown her; she approved it languidly.
A long and sad conversation followed; and, after kissing her mother and
clinging to her, she went to bed chilly and listless, but did not shed a
single tear. Her young heart was benumbed by the unexpected blow.

Next morning early, Alfred Hardie started gaily to spend the day at
Albion Villa. Not a hundred yards from the gate he met Sarah, with Mrs.
Dodd's letter, enclosing a copy of his father's to her. Mrs. Dodd here
reminded him that his visits had been encouraged only upon a
misapprehension of his father's sentiments; for which misapprehension he
was in some degree to blame: not that she meant to reproach him on that
score, especially at this unhappy moment: no, she rather blamed herself
for listening to the sanguine voice of youth; but the error must now be
repaired. She and Julia would always wish him well, and esteem him,
provided he made no further attempt to compromise a young lady who could
not be his wife. The note concluded thus--