It was perhaps as well, for with all its true-heartedness there was a comic side to Mrs Barclay’s well-meant sympathy; and some of her adjurations to “cry away,” and not to “stop it,” and the like, would have provoked a smile from anyone who had been present at the scene.
“There, there, there, then, that’s better,” cried Mrs Barclay, beaming in Claire’s face and kissing her tenderly. “Now you’ll be comfortable again; and now, my dear child, we’re all alone, and if you like to make a confidant of me, you shall find you can trust me as much as my Jo-si-ah can. But don’t you think I’m a scandal-loving old busybody, my dear, for I don’t ask you to tell me anything.”
“You are always so good to me, Mrs Barclay,” sighed Claire, clinging to the ample breast.
“Oh, nonsense, my dear. I only offer to be your confidant, so as to help you in your trouble. For you are in trouble, my dear—dreadful trouble, and it hurts me to see you so—hurts me, my dear, more than you think for, so what I say is—If it does you good to come and sit with me and be comforted by having a good cry over me, just as if you were my little girl, why you shall, and I shan’t ask you a single question; but if you think such a silly stout old woman can do you any good by giving you advice, or—now don’t be offended—finding you money; or by asking my Jo-si-ah what to do—”
“Mrs Barclay!” cried Claire in tones of dismay, and with her cheeks flushing.
“Ah, that’s the way of the world, my dear,” said Mrs Barclay with a quiet contented smile, as she drew Claire’s head back upon her shoulder, and stroked and patted her cheek. “You don’t know my Jo-si-ah. He seems a rough harsh-spoken old money-grubber, but he’s the tenderest-hearted, most generous man that ever lived. There, there, you needn’t speak. I was only going to finish and say Claire Denville has two true friends here in this house; and as for me, here I am, ready to help you in any way, for I believe in you, my dear, in spite of everything that has been said, as being as good a girl as ever breathed.”
“Heaven bless you!” exclaimed Claire, nestling to her; “you are a true friend, and I will tell you all my trouble.”
“That’s right, my dear, so you shall, and two heads are better than one. Shall I help you?”
“Oh, yes, yes, Mrs Barclay, if you can. I am so helpless, so weak with this new trouble, I don’t know what to do.”
“No; and you’ll be driving yourself half crazy, my dear,” whispered Mrs Barclay. “Why, I know as well as can be what it is.”