‘No, sir.’
‘Have you had any news yet .... of your sister?’
‘No.’
The boy pronounced the syllables with his usual resolution, and with the reserve that also belonged to him; these qualities were more obvious than usual to the Squire. ‘A proud family—a proud family,’ he said within himself; ‘but at least it is not a family that begs for help.’ And with this thought there rose again in his heart the partiality he had long felt for the lad, and the clinging remembrance of the attachment of his little son for the little companion who had sometimes played with him. ‘I will make up my mind,’ he said to himself inwardly; ‘the boy is an honest lad, and I will do what I can for him.’
‘I wish you to go to the gardener,’ he said aloud, ‘and tell him that I shall require you all the day. By the time you have spoken to him, I shall have finished the letter which you must take to Mr Lee. I wish you to leave it, and to wait for an answer, and then to call for my other letters, and come straight back to me. You will have to wait in the town for the last delivery—there are some letters that I must have to-night.’
The boy left the room, and the Squire sat down and wrote. It was a long epistle, addressed to his old friend, Mr Lee.
‘.... No, I cannot give you advice with regard to your niece and nephew,’ (with these words he concluded after he had spoken of many things), ‘and so I will not ask for your help in a similar perplexity, which has been engaging my attention of late. The boy of whom I spoke to you seems to me worthy of assistance, and I cannot forget that Willy cared for him. For the next few weeks and months I intend to watch him narrowly, and if he proves himself deserving, I will provide for him.’
With these words—that is to say with an assurance of which he was unconscious although it concerned himself—with the loss of his sister weighing on his mind, and his promise to Tina haunting him once more, Nat found his way through the brilliant August sunlight, which flashed on the river, and shone on the golden corn; and with quick footsteps, although with a mind perturbed, left river and corn-fields, and reached the town at length. ‘If he proved himself deserving,’—it was his hour of probation. Who will dare to say of himself that he is strong enough for trial?