Sampson took the bridesmaids each to her residence, on purpose to leave Edward free. He came home, washed his face, and, sick at heart, but more master of himself, knocked timidly at Julia's door. “Come in, _my son,_” said a broken voice. He crept in, and saw a sorry sight. The travelling dress and bonnet were waiting still on the bed; the bridal wreath and veil lay on the floor; and so did half the necklace, and the rest of the pearls all about the floor; and Julia, with all her hair loose and hanging below her waist, lay faintly quivering in her mother's arms. Edward stood and looked, and groaned. Mrs. Dodd whispered to him over Julia: “Not a tear! not a tear!” “Dead, or false?” moaned the girl: “dead, or false? Oh that I could believe he was false; no, no, he is dead, dead.” Mrs. Dodd whispered again over her girl. “Tell her something: give us tears--the world for one tear!” “What shall I say?” gasped Edward. “Tell her the truth, and trust to God, whose child she is.” Edward knelt on the floor and took her hand-- “My poor little Ju,” he said, in a voice broken with pity and emotion, “would you rather have him dead, or false to you?” “'Why false, a thousand times. It's Edward. Bless your sweet face, my own, own brother; tell me he is false, and not come to deadly harm.” “You shall judge for yourself,” he groaned. “I went to his lodgings. He had left the town. The woman told me a letter came for him last night. A letter in--a female hand. The scoundrel came in from us; got this letter; packed up his things directly; paid his lodging; and went off in a two-horse fly at eight o'clock in the morning.” CHAPTER XXX AT these plain proofs of Alfred's infidelity, Julia's sweet throat began to swell hysterically, and then her bosom to heave and pant: and, after a piteous struggle, came a passion of sobs and tears so wild, so heart-broken, that Edward blamed himself bitterly for telling her. But Mrs. Dodd sobbed “No, no, I would rather have her so; only leave her with me now: bless you, darling: leave us quickly.” She rocked and nursed her deserted child hours and hours: and so the miserable day crawled to its close. Downstairs the house looked strange and gloomy: she, who had brightened it all, was darkened herself. The wedding breakfast and flowers remained in bitter mockery. Sarah cleared half the table, and Sampson and Edward dined in moody silence. Presently Sampson's eye fell upon the Deed: it lay on a small table with a pen beside it, to sign on their return from church.