Nuttie was not much less so at what she felt as a slight to Mr. Dutton as well as at the failure. 'When you are doing so much for us. We deserve that you should do nothing more,' she said with tears shining in her eyes.
'Do not talk in that way,' he answered. 'You know my feeling for the dear little fellow himself, and—'
'Oh yes,' interrupted Nuttie, 'I do trust to that! Nobody—not the most indifferent person, but must long to save him. Yes, I know it was doing you a wicked injustice to fancy that you could take offence in that way at a father in such trouble. Please forgive me, Mr. Dutton.'
'As if I had anything to forgive. As if there were anything on earth that could come before the endeavour to recover him,' said Mr. Dutton, too much moved for his usual precision of speech.
'Yes; he is her child,' said Nuttie, with a trembling tearful smile.
'Her child! Yes, and even if he were not, he is your brother,' said Mr. Dutton; then hastily gathering himself up, as if he had said too much, he rose to take leave, adding as their hands clasped, 'Remember, as long as I live, you may count upon me.'
'Oh, I know, I know! There's nobody like you, but I don't know what I say in this awful suspense. If I had only seen him lying white and cold and peaceful, it would have been far better than to think of him pining and miserable among wicked people, who would try to bring him up like themselves. Mother's own little boy!'
'It will not be allowed, it will not be allowed,' cried Mr. Dutton. 'God's Providence is still over him.'
'And there are prayers, I know—at our church and Mr. Godfrey's-and all ours, but oh! it takes a great deal of faith to lean on them. I wonder if you would, Annaple, if it were Willy?'
'We will not ask Mrs. Egremont,' said Mr. Dutton, as Annaple made a gesture of something like doubt.