“I’m going to speak to you very frankly,” she said, in a voice whose strange weakness belied its courage. “My sister, as you know, is ill. She has been ill nearly all her life, Mr. Ford. We are neither of us young; what little money is ours I have always tried to manage for the best. It is I who have always taken the responsibility of this, and it is I who must continue to do it. I have no one to come to, either for counsel or advice, neither for protection. I tell you this frankly, for I want you to feel it and understand it. Had my sister and I all that is rightly due us, we should be in far different circumstances.”
She raised her eyes bravely.
“My sister needs comforts, I mean real comforts, Mr. Ford, comforts I have not dared risk the giving. A purer air than New York, long summers in some pleasant country place, more luxuries than I feel we can afford and live within our means, and people around her who would take her mind from herself. You may not realize it, but far from growing better, she is growing worse. I, who am constantly with her, see it only too plainly. Her extreme weakness at times frightens me. Now what I feel is this——”
Ford started, his shrewd eyes alert to her slightest word or gesture.
“If it were possible to invest safely, as you say, even the small amount that I could dare give you—it is so serious, Mr. Ford, you must understand just how I feel. If I were to give you this—and anything should happen to it——”
Ebner Ford sprang to his feet.
“Can you doubt it,” he exclaimed earnestly, “in the face of plain figgers? You don’t suppose, my dear friend, I’d lead you into a risk, do you?”
“I don’t believe you would, sir,” said she. “That would be too cruel.”
He drove his thumbs into his armholes, and for a moment stood in thought, tapping his fancy waistcoat with his long, bony fingers.
“Suppose I let you have a thousand shares?” he said with a benign smile. “Think what it would mean to you. No more worryin’ over little things; you’ll have money enough then to have some peace of mind.”