“Capital,” said Mrs Ogilvy, with a confident air of having suggested something quite different.
“It’s the same thing, only more of it; and as that lies with you to furnish, we shall not quarrel about the word.”
“There is some mistake,” said Mrs Ogilvy, with dignity. “I have never said, I have never promised. Mr Lew, I found out to-day what was the passage-money of the farthest place you could go to, and I have got the siller here in the house.”
The dark figure at the window stirred a little, raising a hand as if in warning: the other listened with a sudden, eager gleam in his eyes, leaning forward. It made his face shine to hear of the money in the house.
“Yes,” he said, joyfully, “that’s something like speaking. I love a practical mind. You have got it here in the house?” There came a certain tigerish keenness into his look, as if he might have snatched at her, torn it from her. The shadow against the window stirred a little, but whether in sympathy with the keen desire of the one, or touched by the aspect of the other, it was impossible to tell. Meanwhile Mrs Ogilvy, suspecting nothing, saw nothing to fear.
“It is in the house. I got it even in English notes, that you might have no trouble. There will be a hundred pounds,” said Mrs Ogilvy. She spoke with a little pride, as of one announcing a great thing, a donation almost unparalleled, but which yet she gave like a princess, not grudging. “And thirty besides,” she added, with a little sigh, “that when you get there you may not be without a pound in your pocket. I give it you with all my heart, Mr Lew. Oh, if the money, the poor miserable siller, might maybe be the means of calling you back to a steady and to an honest life!”
Lew said nothing in reply: his hungry eyes, lighted up by such a gleam of covetousness, gave one fiery glance at Robbie standing, as it seemed, imperturbable, immovable, in the shade. Then he began to beat out a tune on the table with his fingers: but he made no other answer, to Mrs Ogilvy’s great surprise.
“I believe,” she said, with hesitation, “that will pay a passage even to India; but if you should find that it will need more——”
He went on with his tune, beating on the table, half whistling to accompany the beats of his fingers. Something of the aspect of a fierce animal, lashing its tail, working itself up into fury, had come into his usually smiling pleasant looks, though the smile was still on his face.
“I fear,” he said, with the gleam in his eyes which she began to perceive with wonder, “that it is not enough. They will be of no use to us, these few shillings. I thought you would have done anything for your son; but I find, mother, that you’re like all the mothers, good for everything in words, but for a little less in money. You will have to give us more than that——”