Lotte stole her arm about Flora’s waist, and whispered in her ear—
“Cheer up, Miss Wilton! you have friends who will not desert you.”
“Where?” she asked, bitterly. “I know of no relative, save my father and my brother. My father is in prison, my brother is far, far away, and I am a homeless, helpless, hopeless outcast.”
“Not hopeless!” exclaimed Vivian; “do not say that, Miss Wilton! Remember that I have told you, Mark and I were friends before he went away. I know him so well that I believe if any near and dear relative of mine were, during my absence, to fall into trouble and affliction, he would be the first to come forward and help her, and, as his friend, what he would do that ought I to do. I make no boast; but, oh! Miss Wilton, do not fear but that I will do my best, and that at least you shall not be helpless nor homeless while I can command a shilling, and have strength to work for one.”
“And you are a dear fellow, and make me foolish enough to cry, and I wish you wouldn’t,” said Lotte, her eyes suffused with tears.
“And, likewise, you are young and green—pea-green,” thought Mr. Nutty, as he put down in his inventory, “1 large spewn, 1 chimblee ornymint, and 1 arthwrugg.”
Flora, with eyes beaming with gratitude, proffered her hand to Vivian, who took it and pressed it. It would have been a dear delight to him to have kissed it, but he felt that this was not a time for such a display of gallantry or feeling.
“I know not how to thank you, Mr. Vivian,” she said, in trembling accents, “but I fear I cannot, while I sincerely appreciate your generous offers of assistance to me, avail myself of them. Your friendship for my brother gives to me no claim upon your aid, neither does it entitle me to accept it; and, guided by the precepts and counsels my dear father has implanted in my mind, I seem clearly to comprehend that it would be—may I say—an indiscretion were I to act otherwise than in most grateful terms to decline what your disinterested generosity has prompted you to propose. I confess that I have been terribly shocked and shaken by what has occurred, but the nervous tremor I at this moment endure will pass away, and I shall look with fervent faith to a brighter time.”
“Young and green, too,” thought Mr. Nutty—“sap-green,” and placed in his inventory, “1 immidge—a figgur of Oap.”
Lotte interposed, as Hal, with rather a disconcerted aspect, was about to urge her acceptance of his renewed offer.