“Help, my child?”
“Yes: for money. May I ask the Barclays? They have always been so kind. Surely they will help us now.”
“Help us—money?” he said vacantly.
“Yes, for your defence. We must have counsel, father. You shall be saved—saved that we may go far from here. Father, I cannot bear it. You must be saved.”
He was startled by the wildness of her manner and the fierce energy she threw into her words.
“You do not speak,” she cried imperiously, and she laid her hands upon his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “You must not, you shall not give up and let yourself drift to destruction. Why do you not tell me? I am only a woman. Father, what shall I do?”
“What shall you do?” he said mournfully.
“Yes, yes. Forgive me for what I say—I, your child, who love you most dearly now that you are in this terrible trouble. Father, we must go away together to some distant place where, in a life of contrition and prayer, we may appeal daily for the forgiveness that is given to those who seek.”
He gazed in her eyes with his lip quivering, and a terrible look of despair in his face.
“Forgiveness for those who seek?”