They were both of them chastened and elevated in tone by their five years’ discipline.
The night before the party went down to Belforest, where they were to meet the Evelyns, Allen lingered with his mother after all the rest had gone upstairs.
“Mother,” he said, “I have thought a great deal of that dream of yours. I hope that the touch of Midas may not be baneful this time.”
“I trust not, my dear; you have had a taste of the stern, rugged nurse.”
“And, mother, I know I failed egregiously where the others rose.”
“But you were rising.”
“Then you will let me do nothing for you, and I feel myself sneaking into your inheritance, to the exclusion of all the rest, in a backdoor sort of way.”
“My dear Allen, it can’t be helped, you have honestly loved your Elf from her infancy, when she had nothing, and she really loved you at the very worst. Love is so much more than gold, that it really signifies very little which of you has the money. You and she have both gone through a good deal, and it depends upon you now whether the possession becomes a blessing to yourselves and others. Don’t vex about our not having a share, you know yourself how much happier we all are without the load, and there will never be any anxiety now. I shall always fall back on you, if I want anything.”
“That is right,” said Allen, clearing up a good deal as she looked up brightly in his face. “You promise me.”
“Of course I do,” she said smiling. “I’m not proud.”