The tale which these words prefaced was sad enough. The father, Worsley Glyn, was doing nothing, and of income there was literally none. Those who had given him opportunities of retrieving his position, more for his family's sake than for his own, would trust him no longer. All available resources had been tried, and were exhausted. Of house debts there were few as yet; at Mr. Glyn's personal liabilities, his wife was afraid to hazard a guess. For herself, she said, she would rather starve than incur debts which she had no means to discharge.
Arthur knew that his mother had strained every nerve to give a thorough education to his young sisters, Hilda and Gertrude. Under her careful training they had grown-up into a lovely girlhood, tender, true, modest, refined, and well-informed, but in the way of accomplishments she could do little more. The services of good masters were needed in order to fit the girls for earning their bread as teachers, and such were too costly to be thought of for a moment.
Then there was another cause for anxiety. The life insurance which Mr. Glyn had been induced to effect in better days would fall through unless the premium were immediately paid. This was the more important as his health was beginning to fail, and the sum insured was the only semblance of a provision for mother and girls, as well as to meet Mr. Glyn's debts.
No wonder if the joyous light faded from Arthur's eyes, and the flush of gladness from his cheek, as he read his mother's letter. The long-hoped for, well-earned holiday must be given up. The sum hoarded and husbanded at the cost of much self-denial, in order to purchase change of scene and a brief rest to fit him the better for renewed labour, must be otherwise devoted.
It would pay the all-important insurance premium, and leave a very narrow margin for immediate necessities, and that was all.
Arthur Glyn was a brave young fellow. Not with the courage that makes a country ring with applause, because of some daring deed, entered upon, perhaps, in obedience to a momentary impulse, and with little thought of consequences. Yet many a hero in public life has proved himself a coward when called upon to exercise self-denial, or to battle with the petty cares and anxieties of daily life.
Ay, and many a simple-minded, true-hearted girl, who has taken a too heavy load on her young shoulders, and borne it, day after day, with head erect and smiling face, to save a still weaker back from being bowed, and a troubled mind from over-much sorrow, has shown a courage far beyond what is needed for a single act of valour, performed with the world looking on, and waiting to applaud its hero!
Arthur Glyn was an every-day hero, fighting his way by hairs' breadths, counting the cost of every step, and not shrinking from paying it to the full. Not that he came off conqueror in his own strength. What true hero ever did? Had he trusted to himself alone, he must have been worsted long before. But humbly seeking guidance and courage from above, the power was given him to work, to withstand, and to stand.
Here had come to him the tidings of fresh trouble, of a new burden to be borne. He asked himself, "Am I the person who should meet the one and bear the other?" He thought of the dear mother, grown grey and looking old before her time; of the girls, so young, fair, and, as yet, so dependent.
The matter did not require much consideration, and having once decided, Arthur Glyn was not the man to put off doing what conscience and duty declared to be right. So the premium was paid, and in the letter containing the money went a cheering message to Arthur's mother, and a promise that the greater portion of the income assured to him by the Fellowship should be dedicated to her use. As a tutor, he could earn enough in addition to supply his own wants, and he hoped to do yet more for those at home.