'I am coming to it, my dear. Remember, once more, what you said to-night that we owe her all—all—all. Your life: your honour: your son's pride in his father: my life, for the agony and the shame would have killed me. Oh! Will, what can we do for her? What can we give her in return for benefits and services such as these?'
'I will give her all I have, my dear, my whole fortune, this new great fortune. I will give her everything but you, my dear, and the boy.'
'Money she does not want and it will not help her in this strait.'
'What then can we do? We have gratitude—it is hers. And our fortune, it is hers if she will take it.'
'Oh! Will, be patient with me, dear. We can give her indeed, all that we have: we can give her'—she bent over me and kissed me, and her tears fell upon my forehead—'we can give her, Will—ourselves.'
'What?'
'We can give her—ourselves. The whole of our lives. We can become her servants in grateful thanks for all that she has done for us.'
'But how, Alice, how?'
'Consider: she is going out to a new country—alone. We know not into what company she may fall. It is a rough country not yet fully settled I am told: there are fierce Indians and cruel snakes and wild beasts—though I fear the men worse than the beasts. Who will protect her? She is beautiful and men are sometimes driven mad by beauty in women.'
I began to understand.