He moved his head in assent.
'I am going on from the point where we broke off. Is the word we should soon have come to--is it--Wife？'
'O God bless you， Mortimer！'
'Hush！ Don't be agitated. Don't speak. Hear me， dear Eugene.
Your mind will be more at peace， lying here， if you make Lizzie your wife. You wish me to speak to her， and tell her so， and entreat her to be your wife. You ask her to kneel at this bedside and be married to you， that your reparation may be complete. Is that so？'
'Yes. God bless you！ Yes.'
'It shall be done， Eugene. Trust it to me. I shall have to go away for some few hours， to give effect to your wishes. You see this is unavoidable？'
'Dear friend， I said so.'
'True. But I had not the clue then. How do you think I got it？'
Glancing wistfully around， Eugene saw Miss Jenny at the foot of the bed， looking at him with her elbows on the bed， and her head upon her hands. There was a trace of his whimsical air upon him， as he tried to smile at her.
'Yes indeed，' said Lightwood， 'the discovery was hers. Observe my dear Eugene； while I am away you will know that I have discharged my trust with Lizzie， by finding her here， in my present place at your bedside， to leave you no more. A final word before Igo. This is the right course of a true man， Eugene. And I solemnly believe， with all my soul， that if Providence should mercifully restore you to us， you will be blessed with a noble wife in the preserver of your life， whom you will dearly love.'
'Amen. I am sure of that. But I shall not come through it， Mortimer.'
'You will not be the less hopeful or less strong， for this， Eugene.'
'No. Touch my face with yours， in case I should not hold out till you come back. I love you， Mortimer. Don't be uneasy for me while you are gone. If my dear brave girl will take me， I feel persuaded that I shall live long enough to be married， dear fellow.'
Miss Jenny gave up altogether on this parting taking place between the friends， and sitting with her back towards the bed in the bower made by her bright hair， wept heartily， though noiselessly.
Mortimer Lightwood was soon gone. As the evening light lengthened the heavy reflections of the trees in the river， another figure came with a soft step into the sick room.
'Is he conscious？' asked the little dressmaker， as the figure took its station by the pillow. For， Jenny had given place to it immediately， and could not see the sufferer's face， in the dark room， from her new and removed position.
'He is conscious， Jenny，' murmured Eugene for himself. 'He knows his wife.'
第一章Chapter 11 EFFECT IS GIVEN TO THE DOLLS' DRESSMAKER'S DISCOVERYMrs John Rokesmith sat at needlework in her neat little room， beside a basket of neat little articles of clothing， which presented so much of the appearance of being in the dolls' dressmaker's way of business， that one might have supposed she was going to set up in opposition to Miss Wren. Whether the Complete British Family Housewife had imparted sage counsel anent them， did not appear， but probably not， as that cloudy oracle was nowhere visible. For certain， however， Mrs John Rokesmith stitched at them with so dexterous a hand， that she must have taken lessons of somebody.
Love is in all things a most wonderful teacher， and perhaps love (from a pictorial point of view， with nothing on but a thimble)， had been teaching this branch of needlework to Mrs John Rokesmith.
It was near John's time for coming home， but as Mrs John was desirous to finish a special triumph of her skill before dinner， she did not go out to meet him. Placidly， though rather consequentially smiling， she sat stitching away with a regular sound， like a sort of dimpled little charming Dresden-china clock by the very best maker.
A knock at the door， and a ring at the bell. Not John； or Bella would have flown out to meet him. Then who， if not John？ Bella was asking herself the question， when that fluttering little fool of a servant fluttered in， saying， 'Mr Lightwood！'
Oh good gracious！
Bella had but time to throw a handkerchief over the basket， when Mr Lightwood made his bow. There was something amiss with Mr Lightwood， for he was strangely grave and looked ill.
With a brief reference to the happy time when it had been his privilege to know Mrs Rokesmith as Miss Wilfer， Mr Lightwood explained what was amiss with him and why he came. He came bearing Lizzie Hexam's earnest hope that Mrs John Rokesmith would see her married.
Bella was so fluttered by the request， and by the short narrative he had feelingly given her， that there never was a more timely smelling-bottle than John's knock. 'My husband，' said Bella； 'I'll bring him in.'
But， that turned out to be more easily said than done； for， the instant she mentioned Mr Lightwood's name， John stopped， with his hand upon the lock of the room door.
'Come up stairs， my darling.'
Bella was amazed by the flush in his face， and by his sudden turning away. 'What can it mean？' she thought， as she accompanied him up stairs.
'Now， my life，' said John， taking her on his knee， 'tell me all about it.'
All very well to say， 'Tell me all about it；' but John was very much confused. His attention evidently trailed off， now and then， even while Bella told him all about it. Yet she knew that he took a great interest in Lizzie and her fortunes. What could it mean？
'You will come to this marriage with me， John dear？'
'N--no， my love； I can't do that.'
'You can't do that， John？'
'No， my dear， it's quite out of the question. Not to be thought of.'
'Am I to go alone， John？'
'No， my dear， you will go with Mr Lightwood.'
'Don't you think it's time we went down to Mr Lightwood， John dear？' Bella insinuated.
'My darling， it's almost time you went， but I must ask you to excuse me to him altogether.'
'You never mean， John dear， that you are not going to see him？
Why， he knows you have come home. I told him so.'
'That's a little unfortunate， but it can't be helped. Unfortunate or fortunate， I positively cannot see him， my love.'
