“Ah!” thought I, as I looked on that sweet loving face, “the gold indeed looks brightest on the dark ground, and virtue most lovely in affliction.”
“It may not come to that; all may yet be well,” said the husband, rising and pacing up and down the room. “If I only could meet the present difficulty! A loan at this time would keep us all afloat; one good friend at this crisis might save us.”
“George Hardcastle,” suggested the lady.
“I have thought of him a thousand times,” replied her husband, stopping in his agitated walk. “He is rolling in wealth; he is generous; he is our cousin; our boy was named after him. But then—” He paused, and looked at his wife.
“We have quarrelled with him.”
“I have quarrelled with him. We have not met for months. I could not stoop to write to him now.”
“Not for your children’s sake?” said the mother, rising and laying her hand on his arm. “Oh, Edward, we must think of our helpless babes! Even if he refused to lend money to you, he might, I think that he would, do something for our George.”
Mr. Ellerslie uttered a sigh that was almost a groan, and threw himself down on his chair.
“It seems to me as though we should lose no time,” continued his anxious wife; “so much is at stake! Let’s see: this is Wednesday,” she continued, pressing her hand on her forehead. “I think there are two posts to Bristol; if we wrote at once, we might have an answer on Friday. Edward, when all depends on it, why should there be one hour’s delay?”
I could see that it went sorely against the will of Mr. Ellerslie to yield to the persuasions of his wife. It seemed to me, from words that dropped from him, that he was conscious of having behaved ill towards his cousin; that he regarded Mr. Hardcastle with a feeling of dislike, and almost preferred remaining in difficulties to asking assistance from him. I saw, though no mortal ever saw it, that Mrs. Ellerslie had a good deal to endure from her husband, however dear she might be to his heart. What patience she required, what earnest persuasion, to induce his proud spirit to bend so far as to write at all to his offended relative! And then, when the desk was opened, what a painful task was hers to make him write what would not offend, to alter sentences and soften expressions, and stoop to explain the greatness of his need. Often the ink dried on the pen, twice was the half-written sheet pushed angrily away, and bitter things were uttered, even to her whose every look and every tone was love. I scarcely believed that the letter would ever be finished. But finished it was at last; and Mr. Ellerslie hastily quitted the room, impatient with his wife, with himself, with all the world!