"I could not make you understand if I talked to you for an hour," he said at last. "But between poverty here and poverty in London there is a great difference. Here, there is no one to spy upon our misery; no one whose wealth and prosperity make our lot the harder by contrast. Here, too, there is little or no temptation. There, every one you meet would be better off, better dressed, better educated than yourself, and your life would be one of great temptation. In your place, Guy, nothing should persuade me to go. But I do not forbid it. You are old enough to judge for yourself, and I have never interfered, and never will. Do as you like."
"I am glad, sir, that you don't forbid it. I am used to live poorly, and I'll try not to care for what others do. It would be cowardly to remain here, making the little there is less, when I can at least support myself; and as to temptation, it finds one everywhere, and God can keep me there as well as here."
"Oh, if you come to that!" said Mr. Egerton, quietly, and somewhat contemptuously. And he walked out of the room, leaving them all free to consult about Guy's outfit. And they had a fight over it, but only because Guy would not lay out the whole twenty pounds on clothes at once.
"No, no," he said; "it must take me to London, and support me there for a time. I will not rob the beloved bag—it would break Clarice's heart. In spite of my father's doleful prophecies, I mean to do my part in filling that bag!"
Guy wrote to Dr. Majoribanks that evening, accepting the situation. His time at home was very short, which was, perhaps, as well. Lizzie came over to say good-bye, and gave him five pounds as her own and Donald's parting gift; so Guy felt quite rich. Clarice kept sorrow at bay by working hard, mending and making; there would be time enough to cry when he was gone. She got Aymer to go to E— to make a purchase on which her heart was set, a small Bible, as keepsake for Guy.
"Do read it often, Guy," she said; "and pray about what you read. Though we can't understand all of it, we can find out what is right."
"Clarice, I shall miss you sorely; you have been my guide."
"Oh, nonsense, Guy! How could I guide you? But you have a Guide, you know, a Friend from whom nothing but your own act can part you. He is strong, and He loves you. Oh, don't forget Him, Guy! Cling to Him, never forsake Him."
One who knew more would have urged the boy to attend church, to try to make acquaintance with some clergyman who would take an interest in him, to choose his companions carefully. But of all this, Clarice knew nothing. All she knew was that in her Bible she had found her Saviour; and the moment she began to speak of Him, the cloud of anxiety which had rested upon her face disappeared, and her words came freely. Of all worldly prudence, she was ignorant enough; but she knew and trusted Him; no one could hear her speak of Him, and fail to see that, to her, He was very real and very dear. All else that lay before her brother was hid from her eyes, but the Master, to whose service he was vowed, was clear enough.
"Don't think anything too small to ask Him about," she said; "until you really trust Him in all things, you will never know what He can be to you. Since I found that out, I have been so happy, Guy. When I am in pain, I pray, and He makes me able to be patient: when I get fretful, I pray, and He makes me able to hold my tongue: when I want to do things, He helps me. Indeed, He seems always near, and so strong and loving. Do try, dear Guy. I know you love Him, but try to never forget Him; and then you'll be safe and happy, whatever happens."