He listened in a stupefied way, and seeing that he was not inclined to speak, she ran on, "And isn't it beautiful about Lovey?"
This stung him to speech. "Beautiful? To be arrested and sent to prison?"
"Why, no, dear. Haven't you heard? A sweet, kind woman—Miss Prillwitz—called, and told me that he is being cared for at a little Home, for nothing, Stephen; and they will keep him there until we are on our feet again. If that isn't brotherly love, I don't know what is. It makes me believe that there is such a thing as Christianity, after all."
Still Stephen Trimble was silent. She was happy, and he would not dispel her illusion, at least not now. Evidently there were some good people in New York, and she had experienced their kindness. He had expected to find her suffering from neglect and cruelty. He would not have been surprised if she had died. He could hardly believe that a charity patient had received such attention. That their little son had been also tenderly cared for passed his belief, but he would see for himself, and he took the address of the Home. He bade his wife good-bye gently. "I shall come back to you very soon, Stephen," she said, "and things will go better then." He could not tell her of his deep despair. He tried to smile, but only succeeded in giving her a pitiful, longing look. He walked on toward the Home of the Elder Brother, sure that its name was a lie, and that he would find Lovey abused. But he was met at the door by Mrs. Halsey, whom he had known at Rickett's Court, who called his little son to come down and see his papa, and who told him of the plan of which she had just been speaking to Miss Prillwitz. And a moment later Lovey, well dressed, clean, fat, and jolly, tumbled into his arms with a cry of rapture.
"Do you want to come home, Lovey?" he asked.
"No, daddy, I want you to come here. Please, Mrs. Halsey, mayn't he come?"
"We would like to have him very much to teach our boys the use of tools for a few hours every day. It is just what I have been telling your father."
"A week ago," said Stephen Trimble, "your offer would have been heaven to me; now I am afraid it is too late."
"Don't say so," urged Mrs. Halsey; and she called Miss Prillwitz to talk the matter over with him. Miss Prillwitz's first argument was to ask him to luncheon. He ate the nourishing food—the first good meal that had passed his lips for many days—and he said, as he bade them farewell, "I will come to you if I can, and teach your boys mechanics; if I don't come it will be because something has happened to me, and if anything happens to me I want to ask you to lend a helping hand to my wife—and may God bless you." A new impulse stirred within his heart, gratitude, which he had not felt toward any human being for years. He was softened, and tears stood in his eyes. He could almost forgive the landlord of Rickett's Court now.
An impulse to see the man, though not with any hope of gaining anything from the interview, came over him. It was still early, and he walked down Broadway to the building designated, and looked into the bank. How wealthy and strong it looked, with the clerks busily at work calling off fabulous sums to one another, and handling the piles of bills and coin! The safe-doors stood open, and he could see the great bolts and bars, and complicated combinations; and he smiled scornfully as he thought how easily the little machine upon which he had been working would open them all.