"I sit in the kitchen, madam, in order to keep but one fire," said Ralph, leading the way to that very melancholy apartment, where he placed her in a chair near the grate; she perceived that the fire was raked out, and the dismal chill of the room was most depressing.
May looked round, and then up into the face of the old man, and wondered if she could venture to beg him to allow himself the comforts he so sadly needed. He was watching her with a strange, sad smile.
"I know what you are thinking, madam," he said. "My neighbour, Mrs. Short, has been telling me that she informed you that I am starving myself to death; and I have no doubt she told you more than that. She would not spare me. I was a fool to come here—but truly I had little choice. She has given me a bad name with every one."
May could not deny this, so she said:
"I wish you would make yourself a little more comfortable, Mr. Trulock. I cannot bear to think of the life you seem to lead. This place, you know, was meant to make those who live here comfortable."
"I am as comfortable as I—wish to be," Ralph replied.
"But—please forgive me for speaking plainly—you know this place—the money here—was meant to be used to make you comfortable; don't you think you ought to use it as it was intended?"
"Comfort, Mrs. Cloudesley, is a matter of feeling; if I do what I wish to do, I am more comfortable than I should be if I were doing what I don't wish."
He sat down as he spoke, for hitherto he had been standing, and said: "Madam, you are very kind to me, and I should not wish you to think worse of me than I deserve. I don't know what you may have heard from Mrs. Short, nor even what you may conclude from my own words and conduct. May I briefly tell you the truth concerning myself, madam, and then at least I shall know that you are not misled about me."
"Indeed, I will listen with great interest," said May. "I fear you have had many trials."