She looked so utterly grave and in earnest that both Wharton and Lieutenant Vane stared as if transfixed.
"What nonsense!" exclaimed her brother. "As if there would not always be someone——"
"But I shall live to be very old, I know. Aunt Wetherill tells of one of the Wardour women who lived to be a hundred and two years old, ever so long ago, in England. And it is hardly probable, Phil, that you can live to be one hundred and ten or more, and, if you did, you would most likely be helpless," in an extremely assured tone.
"Well, you would not be poor," he subjoined quickly, indignantly.
"How do you know? Some of the people here have been in comfortable circumstances. And, two days ago, when Mr. Northfield was over he was talking about some of papa's property that had nearly gone to ruin—been destroyed, I think, and would take a good deal to repair it. And—eighty or ninety years is a long time to live. There may be another war—people are so quarrelsome—and everything will go then! Betty's house was burned, and her father's fine plantation laid waste. And Betty is not very much older than I, and all these misfortunes have happened to her."
The whole four men are resolved in their secret hearts that no sorrow or want will ever come to her, even if she should outlive them all.
They reached Mrs. Preston's cottage and Primrose delivered her message. Then they lingered about, and Betty concluded it would be no great hardship to come here when one was done with other pleasures and things, and had little to live upon.
"It is a delightful spot," said Vane, "and I never dreamed of it before. That it should have been here all through that winter——"
"But you were dancing and acting plays!"
"Don't call up any more of my bad, mistaken deeds! Have I not convinced you that I repented of them, and am doing my best to make amends?"