“And for how many is your uncle gone?”
“That is what I want to know. He means to be away a long time, I fear.”
“Then it's nothing but your fancy sets you crying!—But I'll just see!” she returned. “I shall know by the money he left for the house-keeping! Only I won't budge till I see you eat.”
Faint for want of food, I had no appetite. But I began at once to eat, and she left me to fetch the money he had given her as he went.
She came back with a pocket-book, opened it, and looked into it. Then she looked at me. Her expression was of unmistakable dismay. I took the pocket-book from her hand: it was full of notes!
I learned afterward, that it was his habit to have money in the house, in readiness for some possible sudden need of it.
CHAPTER XXVIII. ANOTHER VISION.
That same night, within an hour, to my unspeakable relief, John came home—at least he came to me, who he always said was his home. It was rather late, but we went out to the wilderness, where I had a good cry on his shoulder; after which I felt better, and hope began to show signs of life in me. I never asked him how he had got on in London, but told him all that had happened since he went. It was worse than painful to tell him about his mother's letter, and what my uncle told me in consequence of it, also my personal adventure with her so lately; but I felt I must hide nothing. If a man's mother is a devil, it is well he should know it.
He sat like a sleeping hurricane while I spoke, saying never a word. When I had ended,—