Jean drew a long, thankful breath. Relieved of this dread, she felt prepared to face all other ills; but first she must be alone with Robert, behind shut doors, safe from intruding eyes. She slid her arm through his, and leading him into the den, pushed him gently into his own big chair. His hat was still on his head, she lifted it off, smoothed the hair on his forehead with a swift, caressing touch, then sinking on her knees before him, lifted her face to his.
“Robert, we are here together—you and I, in our own dear home. The children are upstairs. There is nothing, nothing in all the world worth grieving for so much!”
He looked at her hopelessly, blankly.
“But it’s gone, Jean—it’s gone. The home’s gone! It’s all gone—everything! Gone! Ruined!”
“What, darling? What has gone? Tell me! I want to know—I want to help!”
“The Bank, Jean! The Glasgow Bank. To-day! Ruin for us; ruin for thousands.”
Jean rested her hands on the arms of the chair, and braced herself to thought. The Glasgow Bank! Father had disapproved of it from the first, and had wished Robert to sell his shares, but he had objected because of the high interest given. They were always hard up, and needed every penny they could get. Besides, Robert declared that it was perfectly safe—as safe as the Bank of England; it was absurd to doubt it. And now it had stopped, and he talked of ruin. Jean’s knowledge of finance had not increased with her years of matrimony, and after the first shock of surprise she told herself with a sigh of relief that, after all, there could not be so much to lose. When she had spoken of selling shares a few weeks ago, Robert had refused on the score that there were so few left. Robert was so dazed, poor man, that he was exaggerating his loss. He must be calmed and soothed.
“Dearest boy, I’m sorry—dreadfully, dreadfully sorry for all those poor people; but you and I have not much to lose, have we? We have rubbed along quite comfortably without a big balance at the Bank, and if a few hundreds have gone—well, we’ll do without them, too. I’ll turn over a new leaf, and be economical. We’ll have no holiday, no new things, the bills for the new furniture are all paid—we need nothing more. Don’t grieve so, dear. I’ll help you. I will help!”
Robert stretched out his arms and folded her close to his heart. The dazed expression was beginning to give way to a yearning tenderness. Jean had yet to be enlightened as to the full extent of the calamity. He must brace himself to the task of explanation.
“Jean, it is not an ordinary bank—it’s unlimited; that was why your father disapproved. But I thought I knew best—I stuck to my own way. If I could bear the consequences alone I wouldn’t grumble; it’s for you, and the children. I have only five shares, but I’m responsible, to my last penny. They can clean me out of everything I possess, can sell our furniture above our heads—every stick in the house, leave us without a bed. And they’ll do it. The calls will be enormous—must be enormous. I’ve ruined you, Jean, by my self-willed folly.”