“Poor little Alice! she does love me, I think—and that’s something.”
CHAPTER XIX.
COMING IN.
When at last her husband entered the room where she awaited him that night—
“Oh! Charlie, it is very late,” said Alice, a little reproachfully.
“Not very, is it, darling?” said he, glancing at his watch. “By Jove! it is. My poor little woman, I had not an idea.”
“I suppose I am very foolish, but I love you so much, Charlie, that I grow quite miserable when I am out of your sight.”
“I’m sorry, my darling, but I fancied he had a great deal more to tell me than he really had. I don’t think I’m likely, at least for a little time, to be pressed by my duns—and—I wanted to make out exactly what money he’s likely to get me for a horse he is going to sell, and I’m afraid, from what he says, it won’t be very much; really, twenty pounds, one way or other, seems ridiculous, but it does make a very serious difference just now, and if I hadn’t such a clever, careful little woman as you, I don’t really know what I should do.”
He added this little complimentary qualification with an instinctive commiseration for the pain he thought he saw in her pretty face.
“These troubles won’t last very long, Charlie, perhaps. Something, I’m sure, will turn up, and you’ll see how careful I will be. I’ll learn everything old Mildred can teach me, ever so much, and you’ll see what a manager I will be.”
“You are my own little treasure. You always talk as if you were in the way, somehow, I don’t know how. A wife like you is a greater help to me than one with two thousand a year and the reckless habits of a fine lady. Your wise little head and loving heart, my darling, are worth whole fortunes to me without them, and I do believe you are the first really good wife that ever a Fairfield married. You are the only creature I have on earth, that I’m quite sure of—the only creature.”