“Yours ever,—
“R. Ingleton.”
The tutor read this letter with a somewhat troubled countenance. It proved to him that his ward was desperately in earnest in his uphill quest, and it filled him with some concern to feel that he himself was not, where he should have liked to be, at the boy’s side.
But to leave Maxfield at present seemed impossible. Rosalind claimed his help on behalf of her father; and the possibility that any day Mr Ratman might turn up and court exposure decided the tutor to remain where he was. Another motive for this step was a haunting perplexity as to the hallucination under which he had apparently laboured with regard to the estate accounts. He never flattered himself he was a particularly good man of business, but it puzzled him to explain why a few weeks ago there should have appeared to be discrepancies and irregularities to the tune of several hundred pounds, whereas now everything was in startling apple-pie order.
Much to Mr Pottinger’s annoyance, he took to visiting the honest lawyer’s office every other day, and spent hours in trying to discover where it was he had made his great mistake. Mr Pottinger was unable to render him any assistance; and the captain, when once he referred to the subject, only smiled pityingly and advised him to take a few lessons in the elements of finance; which advice, to do him justice, the tutor humbly proceeded to take. The result was to deepen his perplexity and cause him to regret that he had so compliantly countersigned an account which, every time he studied it in the light of his new wisdom, appeared to bristle with problems.
Faithful to her promise, at the end of a week Rosalind presented herself at Maxfield.
“Well, my child?” said the parent blandly, laying down his newspaper.
“I said I would come and speak again about what you were saying the other day. Have you heard any more from your creditor?”
“Things remain, as far as he is concerned, in statu quo; and I am no nearer being able to satisfy him to-day than I was a week ago; unless, indeed—”
“All I have to say,” said Rosalind nervously, “is, that I would work like a slave to help you, if I could.”