A sleepless night was passed in forming plans for the future. There had been only too much truth in Lady Selina’s words—how could the bankrupt’s wife find means to extricate herself from present difficulties? Clemence’s purse was empty. The first instalment of her income, miserable pittance as it appeared, was not due to her for months; she had none to whom to apply for assistance—none from whom she could hope for relief. Again and again Clemence thought of her jewels, but they were all, with the exception of her watch, and a few trifles of little or no intrinsic worth, the gifts of her husband, and she regarded them almost as one in the Dark Ages might have regarded precious relics,—things far too valuable to be parted with, except with life. Yet there seemed to be no other resource, and Clemence now felt that in resigning all her fortune she had made a sacrifice indeed.
She rose sad and unrefreshed from her sleepless pillow, and yet a spirit of submission was shed into her heart. The iron had entered into her soul, but the wound was not poisoned by rebellious unbelief. Clemence was able to pray hopefully for her husband, and to trust that even the trials of his condition might be a means of drawing him nearer to his God. Surely the Almighty had judged his errors less severely than the harsh, unfeeling world? Had not those errors arisen from the very tenderness of his affection towards his wife? The temptations of prosperity had raised a mist around him; the blast of misfortune had dispersed that mist, and the blue heaven would again smile above him! Thus mused the young wife, her mind ever recurring to her absent lord as the centre of all its earthly thoughts. She could not see him, write to him, cheer him; but she could still pour out her soul for him in prayer, and was there not sweet comfort in that?
CHAPTER XXI
JEWELS AND THEIR WORTH.
“I think it right to lay before the children of my dear husband the course which I intend to pursue; their welfare is very near to my heart, and I cannot separate their interests from my own.” Such were the words addressed by Clemence to Vincent and his sisters, while Lady Selina sat listening near, her face wearing a smile of cold scorn.
“I propose,” continued Clemence, “to rent a cottage, a very small cottage in Cornwall, my native county, where necessary expenses can be reduced to a very narrow scale, unless I should receive directions from my husband which would induce me to alter my arrangements. If any of his family will share that humble abode, it will be my heart’s desire to make them as—;” the word “happy” would not come, it died on the trembling lip, and a sigh concluded the broken sentence.
Arabella slightly elevated her brow and her shoulders; Louisa looked uneasily at her aunt.
“Such is your offer, madam; now listen to mine,” said Lady Selina, folding her hands with the air of one about to give a proof of magnanimous self-denial. “I need not speak of the fervent affection which I have ever borne to my sister’s children. My dear nieces have always looked to me as to the representative of a cherished mother, and in the hour of adversity I shall be the last to desert them. To my home, wherever that may be, most freely do I bid them welcome. With Vincent the case is different; though my love for him is the same, I cannot, as doubtless Mrs. Effingham will do, undertake the expenses of his education, or give to my dear nephew the advantages which are indispensable to a boy of his age.”
Doubtless the affectionate aunt had not forgotten that whereas Vincent was absolutely penniless, the united incomes of her nieces, moderate as they were, would exactly double her own. Few of those who knew the lady intimately would have given her credit for disinterested kindness; but whatever might be her motive for the offer, Arabella was not slow to accept it.