As he delivered himself of this speech, Frank stretched himself upon the grass and gave a lazy puff at his cigar, while his face wore a kind of martyred look as if the world had dealt very harshly with him. Magdalen was thoroughly angry, and her eye flashed indignantly, as she turned towards him. He had been at Millbank nearly four weeks, and showed no intention of leaving it. “Just sponging his board out of Roger,” Hester said; and the old lady’s remarks had their effect on Magdalen, who herself began to wonder if it was Frank’s intention to leave the care of his support entirely to his uncle. It was her nature to say out what she thought, and turning to Frank, she said abruptly, “If you are so poor, why don’t you go to work and do something for yourself? If I were a man, with as many avenues open to me as there are to men, I would not sit idly down and bemoan the fate which had given me only six thousand dollars. I’d make the most of that, and do something for myself. I do not advise you to go away from Millbank, if there is anything you can do here; but, honestly, Frank, I think it would look better if you were trying to help yourself instead of depending upon Mr. Irving, who has been so kind to you. And what I say to you I mean also for myself. There is no reason why I should be any longer a dependent here, and as soon as I can find a situation as teacher or governess I shall accept it, and you will see I can practise what I preach. I did not mean to wound you, Frank, but it seems to me that both of us have received enough at Mr. Irving’s hands, and should now try to help ourselves. You are not angry with me, I hope?”
She was looking at him with her great bright eyes so kindly and trustingly that he could not be angry with her, though he winced a little and wished that she had not been quite so plain and outspoken with him. It was the first time any one had put it before him in plain words that he was living on Roger, and it hurt him cruelly that Magdalen should be the one to rebuke him. Still he would not let her see his annoyance, and he tried to appear natural as he answered, “I could not be angry with you, especially when you tell me only the truth. I ought not to live on Roger, and I don’t mean to, any longer. I’ll go into his office to-morrow. I heard him say he wanted a clerk to do some of his writing. I’ll be that clerk, and work like a dog. Will that suit you, Maggie?”
Ere Magdalen could reply, a footstep was heard, and Roger came round a bend in the river, fanning himself with his straw hat, and looking very much heated with his rapid walk.
“I thought I should find you here,” he said. “It’s a splendid place for a hot day. I wish I’d nothing to do but enjoy this delicious shade as you two seem to be doing; but I must disturb you, Frank. Your mother has just arrived, and is quite anxious to see you.”
Frank would far rather have stayed down by the river, and mentally wishing his mother in Guinea, he rather languidly arose and walked away, leaving Magdalen alone with Roger. Taking the seat Frank had vacated, he laid his hat upon the grass, and leaning his head upon his elbow began to talk very freely and familiarly, asking Magdalen if she missed her schoolmates any, and if she did not think Millbank a much pleasanter place than Charlestown.
Here was the very opening Magdalen desired;—here a chance to prove that she was sincere in wishing to do something for herself, and in a few words she made her intentions known to Roger, who quickly lifted himself from his reclining position, and turned toward her a troubled, surprised face as he asked why she wished to leave Millbank. “Are you not happy here, Magda?”
He had written that name once to her, but had not called her thus before in her hearing; and now as he did so his voice was so low and kind and winning, that the tears sprang to Magdalen’s eyes, and she felt for a moment a pang of homesickness at the thought of leaving Millbank.
“Yes, very happy,” she said; “but that is no reason why I should remain a dependent upon you, and before I left the Seminary I determined to earn my own living as soon as an opportunity presented itself. I cannot forget that I have no right to be here, no claim upon you.”
“No claim up me, Magdalen! No right to be here!” Roger exclaimed. “As well might a daughter say she had no right in her father’s house.”
“I am not your daughter, Mr. Irving. I am nobody’s daughter, so far as I know: or if I am, I ought perhaps to blush for the parents who deserted me. I have no name, no home, except what you so kindly gave me, and you have been kind, Mr. Irving, very, very kind, but that is no reason why I should burden you now that I am able to take care of myself. O, mother, mother! if I could only find her, or know why she treated me so cruelly.”