“Nothing,” answered Arthur, decidedly; “my wife has had a vast amount of anxiety concerning the child, and I should not like to interfere; though, I should think,” added the Squire, “that if once we could get her up to London and under better medical treatment, she would soon be well again.”
“Why do you not take a doctor down to see her?” asked Mr. Stewart.
“The expense,” murmured his guest.
“True, I had forgotten,” said the director apologetically; but while he meditatively finished his tea, he remembered the money Arthur had advanced to Mr. Black, and spent uselessly on the purchase of the house he now proposed occupying.
“I presume that, whether or not Mrs. Dudley come to town at once, you can enter on the duties of your new post immediately?” Mr. Stewart said, at length.
“Certainly; if my wife be afraid of leaving home, one of my sisters must come up and keep house for me.”
“You have sisters, then?”
This was enough; that question speedily loosened Arthur’s tongue; on that portion of his family history he was never—the chance of speaking being given to him—dumb.
“Yes, he had sisters, but they were not his own, they were sisters by a second marriage. His father had made a most imprudent choice of a wife without money or connection, who brought five children into the world that I,” said Arthur, “have had to clothe, educate, and support. That is what has kept me a poor man. For thirteen years I have had that burden to carry. You cannot wonder at my being as I am. One of the boys has now got a situation, but he is only earning thirty pounds a year, and that will not do much towards keeping him. You perceive how necessary it is for me to add to my income. With my own children growing up, it is impossible for me to avoid feeling uneasy.”
“Your sisters will marry?” suggested Mr. Stewart.