"The 'beloved bag' must do it, Helen. Don't cry, my dear; you can't turn your tears into beef-tea, afraid. Look you, Nell, it's a plain duty, so it must be done. We have the money; he is our father, and so we must not hold back. Guy and Clarice will say just the same."
So you see Clarice's words and example had not been thrown away. Indeed, when the two go together they are seldom lost—though the words without the example go astray sometimes.
Meantime, Mr. Egerton, silent always, watched and wondered. Had he been the most tender of fathers, he could not have been more carefully nursed. Helen never spared herself. The nourishing food and wine did him good, and he gained a little strength.
Helen was often aware that her father was watching her; at last, one day, he spoke.
"Helen, we cannot afford all this. I suppose we are in debt already?"
"Oh no! Aymer pays for everything."
"Aymer! What, out of that hoard that Clarice once spoke of?"
"Yes; and Guy and Clarice want you to go to them for a change, when you get better."
"I don't think I shall get better. Not your fault, Helen; you are doing all you can."
A day or two later, Aymer, finding the sad eyes fixed wistfully on him, said cheerily,—