"Do you think it would be well to marry any man without an income to live upon? Would it be a comfort to him seeing that he had just enough to maintain himself, and no more?" These were terrible questions to her,—questions which she could not answer, but yet as to which her mind entertained an easy answer. A little help from him, who was willing to indulge her with so many luxuries while she was under his roof, would enable her to be an assistance rather than a burden to her lover. But of this she could not utter a word. "Love is all very well," continued Sir Thomas, in his gruffest voice; "but love should be regulated by good sense. It is a crime when two beggars think of marrying each other,—two beggars who are not prepared to live as beggars do."
"He is not a beggar," said Lucy, indignantly. "He has begged nothing; nor have I."
"Pshaw!" said Sir Thomas; "I was laying down a general rule. I did not mean to call anybody a beggar. You shouldn't take me up like that."
"I beg your pardon, Uncle Tom," she said piteously.
"Very well; very well; that will do." But still he went on walking with her, and she felt she could not leave him till he gave her some signal that she was to go. They continued in this way till they had come nearly round the large garden; when he stopped, as he was walking, and addressed her again. "I suppose you write to him sometimes."
"Yes," said Lucy, boldly.
"Write to him at once, and tell him to come and see me in Lombard Street on Tuesday, at two o'clock. Give me the letter, and I will take care it is sent to him directly I get to town. Now you had better go in, for it is getting very cold."