'I said, which would you rather have--love or money?'
'How much money--a great deal?'
'Yes, a great deal.'
'What a question to ask! What does uncle Bryan say to it?'
'Uncle Bryan is too old for such follies,' he replied roughly.
'That is a crooked way of getting out of an argument,' she said defiantly, as if being provoked herself, she wished to provoke him. 'Money is not a folly, and money can buy anything. So, Chris, I think I would rather have money; for then,' she continued, with a disdainful laugh, 'I could buy new dresses and new bonnets, and everything else in the world that's worth having.'
I listened ruefully, hoping she did not mean what she said, for she spoke mockingly. My mother, seeing that the conversation was taking an unfortunate direction, turned it by speaking of the West family, and Jessie entertained us with lively descriptions of her friends, throwing at the same time an air of mystery over them, which considerably enhanced my curiosity concerning them. Soon afterwards all in the house had retired to rest.
But I knew that my mother would come down for a few minutes' quiet chat, and that we should have something to say to each other about uncle Bryan's wonderful story. It was in every way wonderful to me. I had always imagined that he had led a quiet uneventful life, and suddenly he had become a hero; but I could not associate the uncle Bryan I knew with the man who had fallen in love with Frances Glaive, and so I told my mother as we sat together half an hour later in my quiet little bedroom.
'His life has been a life of great suffering,' my mother said, 'and we can never feel too kindly towards him. He has shown us his heart to-night; and yet, my dear, I think I understand him better than you do.'
'I daresay, mother; that's because you are better than I am.'