Her husband laughed pleasantly.
"I confess that I have. Still, I like to have your desire run with my own. You want this lad to stay here?"
"Yes, Hubert. If he is lonely and friendless, let us be his friends; for had he not rescued her, our dear little daughter would have been killed."
So husband and wife agreed; but when they went to Ralph they found that he was not quite willing to accept the invitation.
"I know how kind it is of you," the boy said. "And it is true that I have no friends, and nowhere to go; but I—I cannot live on your charity. I want to earn my living somehow."
"That is good, Ralph," was the hearty reply of Mr. St. Clive; "but you must be reasonable. There is such a thing as unreasonable pride. You cannot earn your living in any calling as a gentleman, without you are fitted for it. Your life on the plains, and life here, or in London, would be very vastly different. If you had friends in Texas we might send you back again——"
"No, no, sir!" cried Ralph, interrupting him. "I could not go back. Here I must stay for two reasons. I must live to find out what has become of my father, and I must clear his name from the accusation that man made."
"Your first reason is good; your second I do not think that you need worry over. Then you will stay? Well, then, you must certainly let the wish of my wife and of Irene conquer your pride. I want to help you all I can; and if presently it is better for you to go, I promise you that I will not seek to detain you."
"Do stop, Ralph," added Irene, who, pet as she was, had stolen into her father's study, and heard what was said. "I want you to stay; and I want you to teach me how to throw a rope like that, though I should never dare to throw it at a bull. Please stay."