“And yet you want to take up this burden too!”
“I! no,” he said, in a low voice. “I do not want it. But what if our Master gives it to us to be carried?”
Both were silent, till Robert said again, “That is my feeling. And also,—I do not think one can ever be really the poorer for money lent to God.”
No doubt this was true. But money given grudgingly is not lent to God. I had the thought strongly in my mind, yet could not utter it.
“Come, Marion, my love,—” and he looked anxiously at me,—“you know as well as I do that only one path lies open to us. We must give the child shelter for a little while. Possibly on inquiry we may find some clue to Churton’s whereabouts,—or he may write. In any case we must have time to consider our next step.”
“Could you not consult Aunt Briscoe?” I asked suddenly.
“Would she give advice that I could follow?”
“I think she would like to be consulted,” I said.
“Well, there is no harm in talking matters over with her. I think I can arrange to go for half-a-day on Saturday. And you must come with me, Marion, instead of Jack or Cherry. That will please Aunt Briscoe, and we shall enjoy the little trip together.”
I did not think I could enjoy anything just then; but I made no objection to the plan.