They were silent for a moment, then Virginia raised her eyes to his, and he met her glance with a look of dumb appeal.
“I thank you as much for what you have sought to do for me, as for what you have actually done, Mr. Benson. If I have seemed ungrateful—”
“If you would let me—” he burst out. “There—forgive me, Virginia, I don't want to offend you. What were we saying? Oh, Stephen—he had as little business to marry as he had to enlist. I'd have prevented that if I could, but I couldn't. His folly was all of a piece, I am angry whenever I think of it.”
“I wonder what he will do when he comes back,” said Virginia.
Benson said nothing. The farm would not have been lost but for
Stephen's selfishness. This, had there been any other lacking, would have given him an excuse to hate the young fellow, and he was ready now to hate all the world.
“It is not too late for him to take up the study of the law again,” suggested Virginia.
“Not too late if he thinks that is what he wants,” said Benson briefly. He went on in a gentler tone, “But why do you worry about him, Virginia, what's the use? He will have his own plans, and you will forgive me, he will prefer them to any plans you can make for him. You know him well enough to know that.”
“But may I not think that you will aid him where you can? That you will interest yourself in his future?”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders moodily and frowned.