“Try your best,” I answered. “Only remember that for the present Maimie is far too young for anything of the kind. You must work for the future.”
“If I knew how,” he said despondingly.
“Don’t sink into a useless disappointed creature, without aim in life or spirit to work—a thing not fit to be called a man. Work doubly hard, Jack—for duty, if pleasure is impossible. Make the most of your time, the most of your bodily strength, and the most of whatever brain powers you may have. Let Maimie know you as a man with some stuff in you. She will never love a mere bending reed, you may be sure.”
“I’ll not be that, any way,” Jack said with energy. “Mother, you’ll see! I shall begin reading again to-morrow, just as usual, and I’ll work hard.”
He kept his word. I saw Maimie looking at him, with a touch of surprise. She took no further notice for three days.
But on the fourth evening, when he was diligently occupied, with a puzzled look, I saw her go quietly up and say, “What is it, Jack? Can I help you?”
Thereafter, though she did not always sit by his side, Jack found his studies by no means dull. He knew at least that she was still interested in his advance.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
MEASLES.
THINGS went on quietly for some weeks; Maimie still one of us; Churton sleeping near at hand, in and out often, but apparently in no hurry to come to any sort of decision. Weeks passed thus, and I began to think the winter would see no change. Churton showed some signs of softening, and fitting in rather better with our ways. He was proud of Maimie. I do not know whether he was what I should call fond of her. It often seemed to me as if he were capable of real fondness for nobody except himself.