Again Emmie hesitated and looked vexed. “I had laid it all out already in my mind,” she replied. “It is to give pleasure to so many poor children at Christmas.”
“Christmas! why, you shall have it back long before Christmas,” cried Vibert; and he held out his hand for the note. But Emmie retained it still in her clasp. She was doubtful as to the use which the young prodigal might make of the money, and whether it might not be rather an injury than a kindness to Vibert to replenish his empty purse.
The youth read the doubt on the maiden’s expressive face, and it made him indignant and angry.
“Emmie, can you not trust me?” exclaimed Vibert in an irritable tone; and, as no answer immediately came, he passionately repeated the question.
“Oh for courage to speak the truth faithfully!” thought Emmie; but the courage came not with the wish. Her lips formed a scarcely articulate “yes;” and having said “yes” to her brother’s question, she could hardly say “no” to his demand for a loan.
Vibert rather took than received the bank-note from Emmie; he saw that his sister was reluctant to give it, but he thought that a kiss, and the assurance that she was “the dearest girl in the world,” had set all right between them.
“Of course the money is as safe with me as if it were in the Bank of England!” cried Vibert; “you shall have it back in a week;” and nodding good-bye to Emmie, Vibert quitted the drawing-room, and was soon on his way to S——.
Emmie watched from the window the light and graceful form of her brother, as he tramped over the new-fallen snow, leaving brown footprints behind him. The poor girl’s eyes were full of tears, and her heart of self-reproach.
“I have been no true friend to my thoughtless young brother,” said Emmie to herself; “it was mere selfish cowardice which made me yield to his wishes, and put in his hands money of which I fear that he will make no good use.”
The maiden left the window, but not to resume her employment; all her pleasure in it was gone: she had sacrificed her means of doing good to her fear of offending her brother. Emmie knelt down on the hearth-rug and hastily gathered up her scraps of ribbons, chintz, and silk, tossing them back into the basket, as trash to be thrust out of sight, or thrown away as useless. The cares which pressed on Emmie’s mind were not now to be banished by thoughts of Christmas amusements, and the hope of imparting innocent pleasure to the children of her father’s tenants.