A good deal of this was unintelligible to Alfred, but the advice seemed good--advice generally does when it squares with our own wishes. He thanked Maxley, left him, made a hasty toilet, and ran to Albion Villa.
The news of the wreck had come to Albion Villa just half an hour ago, and in that half hour they had tasted more misery than hitherto their peaceful lot had brought them in years. Mrs. Dodd was praying and crying in her room; Julia had put on her bonnet, and was descending in deep distress and agitation, to go down to the quay and learn more if possible.
Alfred saw her on the stairs, and at sight of her pale, agitated face flew to her.
She held out both hands piteously to him: “O Alfred!”
“Good news!” he panted. “He is alive--Maxley has seen him--I have seen him--he will be here directly--my own love, dry your eyes--calm your fears--he is safe--he is well: hurrah! hurrah!”
The girl's pale face flushed red with hope, then pale again with emotion, then rosy red with transcendent joy. “Oh, bless you! bless you!” she murmured, in her sweet gurgle so full of heart: then took his head passionately with both her hands, as if she was going to kiss him: uttered a little inarticulate cry of love and gratitude over him, then turned and flew up the stairs, crying “Mamma! mamma!” and burst into her mother's room. When two such Impetuosities meet as Alfred and Julia, expect quick work.
What happened in Mrs. Dodd's room may be imagined: and soon both ladies came hastily out to Alfred, and he found himself in the drawing-room seated between them, and holding a hand of each, and playing the man delightfully, soothing and assuring them. Julia believed him at a word, and beamed with unmixed delight and anticipation of the joyful meeting. Mrs. Dodd cost him more trouble: her soft hand trembled still in his, and she put question upon question. But when he told her he with his own eyes had seen Captain Dodd talking to Maxley, and gathered from Maxley he had been shipwrecked on the coast of France, and lost his chronometer and his sextant, these details commanded credit. Bells were rung: the Captain's dressing-room ordered to be got ready; the cook put on her mettle, and Alfred invited to stay and dine with the long-expected one: and the house of mourning became the house of joy.