Wilbur took both paper and money, and left the room. He went directly to Brownie’s door, and tapped. She opened it, and he saw that she had been weeping. The sight filled him with self-reproach.
“Forgive me,” he said, regretfully, “for having added to your unhappiness by my selfishness. I would have given my right arm rather than that this should have happened. But,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “I did not come here to say this; I came to bring you these, that you might be saved any further unpleasantness,” and he handed her the money and paper.
“Thank you,” she said, touched by this kindness.
She opened the paper, and read Mrs. Coolidge’s recommendation. It was all that she could ask, or even desire. She counted the money, and found that there were five pounds more than were actually due her. A painful flush overspread her lovely face, as she separated them from the rest of the money; then, folding it within the recommendation, she passed it back to Wilbur, saying, briefly, but proudly:
“I cannot make use of these.”
“I understand you,” he said, humbly, “and I cannot blame you; but I thought in this strange city you would need something of the kind.”
“I do need it—indeed, I do not know how I am to get along without something of the kind; but, after what has occurred, I could not use that,” Brownie said, with a weary sigh.
He bowed, but did not press her to take it; then, after a moment’s thought, he asked:
“Miss Douglas, would you make use of one signed by my father?”
“Yes, and be very thankful for it,” she replied, her eye brightening.