“But you could have told me what you wanted in the letter, and that would have saved you your railway fare,” said Caleb reproachfully.
“I didn’t mean the money it cost. I meant the struggle with my own feelings.”
“I think it would be wrong of me to try and persuade you to give up your child,” said Caleb solemnly. “I wouldn’t do it, even if I could. But I can’t. You must remember that I still have my old grandmother to keep. Of course, she’s bedridden now, and she can’t waste money as she used to waste it, for she was shockingly extravagant whenever she had an opportunity. But even as it is she costs a great deal. I have to pay a nurse-companion; and the doctor will come once a week. You know how ready doctors always are to take advantage of anybody in a house being ill. They just profit by it,” he said bitterly. “That’s what they do, they just profit by illness. And besides my grandmother, I have to pay annuities to my two aunts. I’m not complaining. I’m only too glad to do it. But I’m just telling you what a load of domestic responsibilities I have on my shoulders already, so that you can appreciate how utterly impossible it would be for me to do anything for my brother’s little girl. Well, you heard what I told you about that cat, and if I can’t afford the extra amount on the household books for a cat, how can I possibly afford what a child would cost? I’m only so distressed you should have gone to the expense of coming all this way to find out something that I could have told you so well in a letter. I can’t imagine why you didn’t write to me about this child. You do see my point of view, don’t you? And I’m sure that you would rather not have your little girl brought up here. The air of Brigham is very smoky. I’m sure it wouldn’t be good for children.”
“Well, that’s that,” said Nancy. “I’ve done what Bram asked me to do, but I’m just dazed. I just simply can’t understand how you and Bram came out of the same womb.”
Caleb winced.
“Of course, I know that you do talk very freely on the stage,” he said deprecatingly. “But I wish you wouldn’t use such words in this house. We’re simply provincial people, and we think that kind of expression rather unpleasant. I daresay we may appear old-fashioned, but we’d rather be old-fashioned than hear a lady use words like that. I’m afraid, by what you just said, that you haven’t really understood my point of view at all. So, I’m going to take you into my confidence, because I do want you to understand it and not bear me any ill-will. My motives are so often misjudged by people,” he sighed. “I suppose it’s because I’m so frank and don’t pretend I can do things when I can’t. So I’m going to give you a little confidence, Nancy.” Here Caleb beamed generously. “It’s still a secret, but I’m hoping to get married in June, and of course that means a great deal of extra expense, especially as the lady I am going to marry has no money of her own.”
“I hope you’ll be happy,” Nancy said.
“Thank you,” said Caleb in a tone that seemed to express his personal gratitude for anything, even anything so intangible as good wishes, that might contribute a little, a very little toward the relief of the tremendous weight of responsibility that he was trying so humbly and so patiently to support. “Thank you very much.”
Nancy was wishing now with all her heart that she had not been so foolish as to bring that dressing-case with her. She only longed now to be out of this house without a moment’s delay. She wished too that she had not dismissed the fly, for it would be impossible to carry the dressing-case and Letizia all the way to the railway station. Here she would have to remain until another fly could be fetched.
“There’s a good train at half-past seven,” said Caleb, who was observing Nancy’s contemplation of her dressing-case on the hall-chair. “If you like, I’ll telephone to the hotel for a fly to be sent up. But I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to excuse me from waiting any longer. I have rather a lot of work to do this evening. I’m trying to save expense wherever I possibly can,” he added with a martyr’s ecstatic gaze toward a lovelier world beyond this vale of tears.