“If—if—if,” said Edward, “we shall never move the woman with all these ifs to clog the way; one if is sure, that if we spend our money this way, we might have saved ourselves all the trouble of planning so many times over how we should lay it out.”
Edward continued for a few moments silent and moody, while Julia urged her cause zealously. The person, young or old, to whom a charity is suggested, is not often as eager for it as the original projector. Edward, however, after having walked up to the flag-staff, plucked a clover-stalk, and retraced a part of the way to the little wicket by which they entered, said, with the air of a sage, “I did not think it best, Julia, to say yes, without some consideration; but on the whole I like the plan, and if father and mother consent, I shall be very glad.” Once agreed, they were impatient for the execution of their scheme, and they hurried forward to the cottage, at the door of which they were met by both the children. The little girl now quite recovered, clung to Julia, while Richard plucked Edward by the sleeve, and expressed his joy awkwardly, but naturally enough, by laughing in his face.
“Ah, they are indeed right glad to see ye,” said Mrs. Barton, “as I'm sure I am, as I have reason; but they, poor things—their hearts would not jump so at sight of their father's face, as indeed how should they, seeing they can have no recollection of him.”
The children replied to all these kind expressions from mother and children, and then drawing Mrs. Sackville to the door, they suggested their plan. She kissed them both, and bade them await her in the cottage, while she went to consult their father and uncle, whom she saw approaching.
As soon as she had communicated the children's wishes, Mr. Morris laughed at them. “Why,” said he, “the poor foolish woman is on a wild-goose chase, and the sooner she is stopped the better—travelling over the world after a husband, who I have no doubt she is vastly better without than with.”
“But she is the best judge of that, brother.”
“Lord bless you, no—a wife is no judge at all about her husband. She is evidently an ingenious worthy woman, and can get a good living if she is not footing it over the world after this soldier—a good riddance—a good riddance, Mrs. Sackville. I am surprised you do not see it is a good riddance.”
Mrs. Sackville, who did not esteem matrimonial ties so lightly as her bachelor brother, appealed to her husband, but he joined Mr. Morris in thinking Mrs. Barton had much better remain where she was; not because he was sure the father and husband, though a soldier, might not be worth looking up, but because there was not the slightest chance of finding him. “What good will it do the woman to get to Quebec?” he asked; “her husband's regiment has left Canada.”
“She tells me,” replied Mrs. Sackville, “that she has many friends in Quebec from whom she might expect assistance. She has worked for the governor's lady, and she builds much on her benevolence, and thinks she will get her a free passage to her husband in a government ship; and besides,” added Mrs. Sackville, “even if her hopes fail utterly, we shall confer an essential benefit on our children by complying with their wishes; for if they give this poor woman all their little store of wealth, it will cost them the sacrifice of sundry personal gratifications that they have reckoned much on, and thus give them a practical lesson of self-denial and disinterestedness, better than all our precepts, and it will associate with the more selfish and transient pleasures of their journey, the pure and enduring sentiment of benevolence.”
“Well, my dear wife,” said Mr. Sackville, “do as you please—you have arrayed before me irresistible motives.”