But there was a question which had been agitating her own mind which she meant to ask Bessie and hear her clear, straightforward views on the matter; for Lena feared, and justly, that her own wishes might have too much weight with her own opinion, and she dared not yield to these for fear of doing wrong.
"Lena, dear," said Bessie, "is your brother Russell worse?"
"No," answered Lena, "he is improving every day now, mamma says."
"You seem rather troubled and as if something were the matter," said Bessie, simply, but in half-questioning tones, thus opening the door for confidence if Lena wished to give it.
"I would like to ask you something," said Lena, wistfully. "You remember the checks papa and Russell sent me?"
"Oh, yes, of course," answered Bessie. "How could I forget them?"
"Do you think," said Lena, slowly and doubtfully, "that if a person who was not a poor person was in great trouble, it would be quite right to use some of that money to help them out of their trouble? You know papa and Russell say I may use it for any charity I choose. Do you think it would be called charity to do that when the person was in trouble only because he had been—had done very wrong?"
"I don't know. I don't quite understand," said Bessie, quite at sea, as she might well be, at such a vague representation of the case. "I suppose," thoughtfully, "that it might be right if you felt quite sure that your father or brother would be willing."
"But they would not be—at least—oh, I do not know what to think or what to do," exclaimed poor Lena, breaking down under the weight of all her troubles and perplexities.
"I can't tell what to say unless I know more about it," said Bessie, taking Lena's hand; "but, Lena dear,"—approaching the subject of Lena's relations with her own family with some reluctance, "but, Lena dear, if you do not want to ask your father and mother, why do you not ask Uncle Horace? He is so very nice and good, and he knows about almost everything."