Mrs Inglis paused; and, perhaps, becoming conscious that she had spoken with unnecessary decision, she added, gently:
“You are very kind. I believe you are a true friend, and that you will do what you can to enable us to help ourselves. That will be the best—the only way to aid us effectually. With my two brave boys and God’s blessing, I don’t think I need fear.”
She spoke, looking, with a smile, at her sons, who were leaning over her chair. Somehow her smile moved Mr Oswald more than her tears could have done, and he said nothing for a minute or two. There was nothing clearer than that she did not intend to lay the burden of her cares on him or anyone. But what could a delicate woman, unused to battle with the world, do to keep the wolf from the door, let her courage be ever so high?
“Will you promise me one thing?” said he, rising to prepare to go. “Will you promise me to let me know how I can help you—when your plans are made—either by advice or by money? I have a right. Your husband was my relative as well as my friend.”
“I promise faithfully you shall be the first person to whom I shall apply in any strait,” said Mrs Inglis, rising also, and offering her hand.
“And what did your husband think of my proposal to take his son into my office?”
“He thought well of it, as he wrote to you. But nothing has been said about it yet. Can you give us a little time still? and I will write. Believe me, I am very grateful for your kindness.”
“If you will only give me an opportunity to be kind. Certainly, I can wait. A month hence will be time enough to decide.”
And then, when he had bidden them all good-bye, he went away.
“What did he mean by a situation, mamma?” asked Jem. “Is it for Davie? Did papa know?”