“Oh, no one knows better than I do what a thankless business it is, these times,” said Charlotte with a reassuring carelessness; “it’s a case of ‘pull devil, pull baker,’ though indeed I don’t know under which head poor Christopher Dysart comes. And as we’ve got on to the sordid topic of money, Roddy, I’m not going to ask yer honour for a reduction of the rint, ye needn’t be afraid—but I’ve been rather pinched by the expense I’ve been put to in doing up the house and stocking the farm, and it would be mighty convaynient to me, if it would be convaynient to you, to let me have a hundred pounds or so of that money I lent you last year.”
“Well—Charlotte—” began Lambert, clearing his throat, and striking with his stick at the heads of the buttercups, “that’s the very thing I’ve been anxious to talk to you about. The fact is, I’ve had an awful lot of expense myself this last twelve months, and, as I told you, I can’t lay a finger on anything except the interest of what poor Lucy left me—and—er—I’d give you any percentage you like, you know—?” He broke off for an instant, and then began again. “You can see for yourself what a sin it would be to sell those things now,” he pointed at the three young horses, “when they’ll just bring three times the money this time next year.”
“Oh yes,” said Charlotte, “but my creditors might say it was more of a sin for me not to pay my debts.”
Lambert stood still, and dug his stick into the ground, and Charlotte, watching him, knew that she had put in her sickle and reaped her first sheaf.
“All right,” he said, biting his lip, “if your creditors can manage to hold out till after the fair next week, I daresay by selling every horse I’ve got I could let you have your money then.” As he made the offer, he trusted that its quixotic heroism would make Charlotte ashamed of herself; no woman could possibly expect such a sacrifice as that from a man, and the event proved that he was right.
This was not the sacrifice that Miss Mullen wished for.
“Oh, pooh, pooh, Roddy! you needn’t take me up in such earnest as that,” she said in her most friendly voice, and Lambert congratulated himself upon his astuteness; “I only meant that if you could let me have a hundred or so in the course of the next month, it would be a help to my finances.”
Lambert could not bring himself to admit that he was as little able to pay her one hundred as three; at all events, a month would give him time to look about him, and if he made a good collection he could easily borrow it from the estate account.
“Oh, if that’s all,” he answered, affecting more relief than he felt, “I can let you have it in a fortnight or so.”
They were near the lake by this time, and the young horses feeding by its margin flung up their heads and stared in statuesque surprise at their visitors.