Mrs. Wynthrop, in turn, assured him of the pleasure she and all her family had taken in doing all that they had been able to do for Mrs. Harcourt.
“And the house is so large. We have so much space. Why, you know, of course, that we have three distinct garrets, one over each part of this threefold house. The two largest I had made into bedrooms for the boys. They made four rooms. The smaller—which, by the way, is large enough in all conscience—I keep for our lumber room.”
“Our ‘chamber of desolation,’ I call it, Mr. Harcourt,” said Betty.
“Every house must have its ‘chamber of desolation,’” added Mrs. Wynthrop, “but really, I think the empty rooms are the most desolate of all. They are like bodies without souls. And now that my three youngest girls are at school at Northampton, two of the younger lads at college, and two of the elder boys have gone into the dry goods business in Washington city, the old house is more than half unoccupied.”
“I proposed to mamma to take summer boarders this season,” said Margaret with a light laugh.
And in this seeming jest the girl had a serious and benevolent purpose.
She felt how necessary it was that the aged gentlewoman should remain in peaceable possession of her room and her illusions; and she knew enough of the morbid pride and sensitiveness of the family to feel that young Harcourt could never bend his spirit to leave his infirm mother a dependent on their hospitality; and also that he—judging them by himself—would hesitate to propose to pay board for her, lest he should give offense.
Feeling and knowing all this, the kind-hearted and practical girl prepared his way with a jest.
Without suspecting her humane purpose, he followed immediately where she wished to lead, and said, still with some faltering:
“I wish—oh! I do wish—it would be such a blessing to my dear mother—that you would take her as a permanent boarder.”