'You are much poorer, then, than you were?' she said quickly, glancing at his face. 'And I might have helped you—I mean, I might have schemed to gain a fortune—and I won't even try to do so. Brian, tell me all that is in your heart now, all the thoughts that came to you when you read my long letter.'
'I love and admire my dear brave girl more than ever. When I had read her letter all through, I told myself that she was a woman in a thousand, that it was a privilege indeed to be allowed to work for her. Then, if you want a complete account, I smiled over the description of Uncles Ross and Jack, and reflected, "What a first-rate old chap the colonel must be!"'
'Did you? I'm glad. You must love him. And you do not in the very least wee bit blame me for having accepted the home he offered me?'
'No, Catherine; I would have you happy and free to follow your own ideal. We should neither of us know much happiness, my dear one, if we were a rich relative's pensioners, obliged to humour all his whims, and keep silent when we disapproved of his practices.'
'You are—just the Brian I knew you were!' she exclaimed gratefully.
'Only poorer.'
'A new post will be found some day. Meanwhile you will have a badly-needed rest!'
'The literary labour-market is fearfully overcrowded, Catherine. I doubt if I shall obtain more employment,—not before Christmas, at all events. Every week of idleness postpones our wedding day.'
'God will help us, even in worldly matters, if we ask Him to, and if we trust Him, dearest. Tell me, have you thought, as you promised to think? Have you studied your Bible? Have you prayed for faith?'
'Yes, to all three questions. I do believe, but my new faith is not strong enough to stand some tests I have put it to—one test especially.'