The preacher ignored the appeal which was in her tone rather than her words, and went on to explain at length the circumstances of his having come to Europe so unprovided against chances. When he wished to excuse his imprudence, she cried out, “Oh, don't say a wo'd! It's just like my own fatha,” and she told him some things of her home which apparently did not interest him very much. He had a kind of dull, cold self-absorption in which he was indeed so little like her father that only her kindness for the lonely man could have justified her in thinking there was any resemblance.
She did not see him again for a week, and meantime she did not tell the vice-consul of what had happened. But an anxiety for the minister began to mingle with her anxieties for herself; she constantly wondered why she did not hear from her lover, and she occasionally wondered whether Mr. Orson were not falling into want again. She had decided to betray his condition to the vice-consul, when he came, bringing the money she had lent him. He had received a remittance from an unexpected source; and he hoped she would excuse his delay in repaying her loan. She wished not to take the money, at least till he was quite sure he should not want it, but he insisted.
“I have enough to keep me, now, till I hear from other sources, with the means for returning home. I see no object in continuing here, under the circumstances.”
In the relief which she felt for him Clementina's heart throbbed with a pain which was all for herself. Why should she wait any longer either? For that instant she abandoned the hope which had kept her up so long; a wave of homesickness overwhelmed her.
“I should like to go back, too,” she said. “I don't see why I'm staying.”
“Mr. Osson, why can't you let me”—she was going to say—“go home with you?” But she really said what was also in her heart, “Why can't you let me give you the money to go home? It is all Mrs. Landa's money, anyway.”
“There is certainly that view of the matter,” he assented with a promptness that might have suggested a lurking grudge for the vice-consul's decision that she ought to keep the money Mrs. Lander had given her.
But Clementina urged unsuspiciously: “Oh, yes, indeed! And I shall feel better if you take it. I only wish I could go home, too!”
The minister was silent while he was revolving, with whatever scruple or reluctance, a compromise suitable to the occasion. Then he said, “Why should we not return together?”
“Would you take me?” she entreated.