Frank fairly sobbed aloud. Kate, when she could speak, laid her hand upon his, and said reverently, “Cast thy bread upon the waters, and after many days it shall return again unto thy bosom.”
Frank took her in his arms. “Dear wife, at last there is a future for us—at last there is an end to our anxiety and care. Let us thank God for it. This man means what he says, and from him, at least, I am not too proud to receive assistance. He has already made a position there, and with a staunch and able friend like that, we may rely upon making our way.”
“Does it not seem strangely providential, Frank, that just as you helped him and his wife, when everything seemed at its worst, so he now holds out hope for us when we were ready nearly to despair.”
“It is so, Katie. I accept it as God’s providence, and we will act upon it. Now, dear, give me some fresh tea; mine is quite cold, and even joy does not do away with hunger.”
“What a heavy chain, Frank, and the pearls are really magnificent.”
“They have sent the chain with an object, Katie. They had heard from the Holls of our circumstances down here, no doubt. They were too delicate to send money, so they have sent this chain. They have almost pointed out that it is not meant to wear. It would be equally out of place here as at Ballaarat; besides the roughness of the work is out of all proportion to its value. No, Katie, these noble people have sent the chain to pay our passage out there, just as I paid hers. What a strange coincidence, and how delicately they have done it. The intrinsic value of that chain, Katie, with such pearls as those, must be at least three or four hundred pounds.”
“When will you do something, Frank?” Kate said, when, tea over, Frank had taken his seat in his easy chair by the fire, and had lighted his pipe. “You don’t mean to go to work to-morrow, do you?”
“Yes, Katie; I will turn out as usual. It will be a real pleasure, for I shall know it is for the last time. I shall go there, and stick at it until he comes round as usual in the middle of the day, and then I shall tell him I’m going. I know it will rile him tremendously, for in the first place I am very useful to him; in the second, he will lose the gratification he has in seeing me under him; and, in the third place, he is bound under heavy penalties to have the first bit of the line ready in three weeks, and it’s as much as he can possibly do to get it finished. I should not be surprised if half the men leave when they hear I’m going. They hate him nearly as much as I do; and if they leave, the line can’t be open in time, and the directors are sure to enforce the penalty, for I know he has quarrelled with them.”
“Oh, Frank,” Kate said, earnestly, “how I hate that man! It is very wicked, I know; but I hate him with all my heart. I should like to see you say good-bye to him, and, oh, Frank, I would give all I have in the world, and that’s not saying much, to see you take the little wretch by the collar, and thrash him—I should, Frank. Yes, you may shake your head, I know it is wrong, but think how he has treated you all these months.”
“I do think, Katie, and, what is much more, I think how you have suffered all these months; and yet I will go away without thrashing him. It is not from want of good will, Katie, but I am just afraid—no, not of him, dear, but I am afraid of the law; for there’s nothing would give him such pleasure as to get me put in gaol for six months. I believe he would not grudge the thrashing; and in the next place, Katie, I am afraid of myself. If I once lost my temper with him—if I once touched him”—and there was such an intense menace in Frank’s tone that Katie was frightened—“if I once touched Fred Bingham, I should kill him.”