“It is a heavy one, indeed,” said Jane. “I grieve for you the most, Charles. We can go on living as we have lived, and be only reminded that we once had such a friend by the proofs of his kindness which we see every day. But it is hard upon you, separated from your family as you are, to lose your only friend in London.”
“Do not think about that, Jane; I have friends, and can make more. If you are able to get over this pretty easily, we need only be sorry for Mr Rathbone: it must give him great pain to think us really ungrateful. Harriet, dear, come and tell me what is the matter. What makes you cry so?”
“Because you are going away, Charles; and Isabella is ill; and Jane cried so; I am sure something is the matter.”
“But Isabella will be better to-morrow perhaps, and Jane is not unhappy now; look at her, she is not crying now. Go and kiss her.”
“All will come right again soon, I dare say,” said Jane. “Charles will come again some time when we are all well.”
“And I shall not go to-morrow now,” said Charles. “I cannot leave you so full of care.”
“O, Charles! you will, you must go,” said Jane. “You have promised, and you must go.”
“I could not tell when I promised, that Isabella would be ill, and you so anxious. I cannot turn my back on you at such a time.”
“You can do us no good, if you stay, indeed. I must be with Isabella, and Harriet and Alfred will be at school; so you would be of no use, and it would make me uncomfortable to think you were breaking your promise. O, indeed, Charles, this is mistaken kindness.”
Charles did not know what to think: he proposed to consult Mr Barker.