'Thus you see, mother, at one blow, is swept away all that we, have earned by our labors for these six years past; but that is not the worst of it.'
'You are afraid, my son, that it will take more than you have earned; it will leave you in debt?'
'Yes, mother, it will leave us, I fear, one thousand dollars worse than nothing, and that is not all.'
'That is bad enough, James, but I hope you cannot accuse yourselves of any wrong proceedings—any—'
'Nothing wrong, mother, that we can see; but we shall lose—we shall lose our credit, and that, mother, is worse than death.'—And Jim could stand no more; manly as he was, he covered his face, and gave way to a passionate burst of grief.
Mrs. Montjoy spoke not until the violence of it was past, and then, in a very calm and soothing way, gave such counsel as her judgment best dictated.
There is something in the tones of a mother's voice that goes at once to the heart of man. James felt the influence of her sweet words, lulling the violence of the storm within. Calmer views began to break upon him—a juster sense of the responsibility of his present situation. This was his hour of adversity, and he must act the man.
Ned, too, began to feel his heart grow lighter.
'Come, Jim, let us keep up a good heart; things may come round right at last, and if the worst happens, we can go to work again in the old garden.'
'Ah, my son, you will often think of your boyhood's days in that garden: you worked hard, but you were light-hearted and happy, although you sometimes complained of back-aches and blistered hands.'