"No, you weren't, except in going away without making up and saying good-by."
"It's very generous in you to say it, darling. But how large was this sum of money that you expected to last as long as you needed any?"
"I don't know. I didn't stop to count it. You can do that, if you want to. I suppose the purse is in my satchel."
He brought the satchel—still unpacked—took out the purse and examined its contents.
"Barely ten dollars," he said. "It would have lasted but a few days, and, my darling, what would have become of you then?"
He bent over her in grave tenderness.
"I don't know, Ned," she replied; "I suppose I'd have had to look for employment."
"To think of you, my little, delicate, petted darling, looking for employment by which to earn your daily bread!" he exclaimed with emotion. "It is plain you know nothing of the hardships and difficulties you would have had to encounter. I shudder to think of it all. But I should never have let it come to that."
"Would you have looked for me, Ned?"
"I should have begun the search the instant I heard of your flight, nor ever have known a moment's rest till I found you!" he exclaimed with energy. "But as I came in the stage you purposed to take, I should have met and brought you back, if that fortunate mishap had not taken place."