"I think," he said gently, "that you are both too kind-hearted and impulsive, and that you are undertaking a task which should not be imposed upon you. You offer me a continued home with you after your marriage—but who am I that I should accept such generosity from you? I am not getting younger. Every day robs me of some strength—and my work—such work as I can do—will be of very little use to you. I may suffer from illness, which will cause you trouble and expense,—death is closer to me than life—and why should I die on your hands? It can only mean trouble for you if I stay on,—and though I am grateful to you with all my heart—more grateful than I can say"—and his voice trembled—"I know I ought to be unselfish,—and that the truest and best way to thank you for all you have done for me is to go away and leave you in peace and happiness——"
"We should not be happy without you, David!" declared Mary. "Can't you, won't you understand that we are both fond of you?"
"Fond of me!" And he smiled. "Fond of a useless old wreck who can scarcely earn a day's wage!"
"That's rather wide of the mark, David!" said Reay. "Mary's not the woman—and I'm sure I'm not the man—to care for any one on account of the money he can make. We like you for yourself,—so don't spoil this happiest day of our lives by suggesting any separation between us. Do you hear?"
"I hear!"—and a sudden brightness flashed up in Helmsley's sunken eyes, making them look almost young—"And I understand! I understand that though I am poor and old, and a stranger to you,—you are giving me friendship such as rich men often seek for and never find!—and I will try,—yes, I will try, God helping me,—to be worthy of your trust! If I stay with you——"
"There must be no 'if' in the case, David!" said Mary, smiling up at him.
He stroked her bright hair caressingly.
"Well, then, I will put it not 'if,' but as long as I stay with you," he answered—"as long as I stay with you, I will do all I can to show you how grateful I am to you,—and—and—I will never give you cause"—here he spoke more slowly, and with deliberate emphasis—"I will never give you cause to regret your confidence in me! I want you both to be glad—not sorry—that you spared a lonely old man a little of your affection!"
"We are glad, David!"—and Mary, as he lifted his hand from her head, caught it and kissed it lightly. "And we shall never be sorry! And here is Charlie"—and she picked up the little dog as she spoke and fondled it playfully,—"wondering why he is not included in the family party! For, after all, it is quite your affair, isn't it, Charlie? You were the cause of my finding David out on the hills!—and David was the cause of my knowing Angus—so if it hadn't been for you, nothing would have happened at all, Charlie!—and I should have been a lonely old maid all the days of my life! And I can't do anything to show my gratitude to you, you quaint wee soul, but give you a saucer of cream!"
She laughed, and springing up, began to prepare the tea. While she was moving quickly to and fro on this household business, Helmsley beckoned Reay to come closer to him.