“I’m sure Maggie,” said he, turning towards her, “you are a good, thoughtful little creature.  It may be the saving of Edward—­I believe it will.  I think God will bless you for being so devoted.”

“The expense will be doubled,” said Edward.

“My dear boy! never mind the money.  I can get it advanced upon this cottage.”

“As for that, I’ll advance it,” said Mr. Buxton.

“Could we not,” said Maggie, hesitating from her want of knowledge, “make over the furniture—­papa’s books, and what little plate we have, to Mr. Buxton—­something like pawning them—­if he would advance the requisite money?  He, strange as it may seem, is the only person you can ask in this great strait.”

And so it was arranged, after some demur on Mr. Buxton’s part.  But Maggie kept steadily to her point as soon as she found that it was attainable; and Mrs. Browne was equally inflexible, though from a different feeling.  She regarded Mr. Buxton as the cause of her son’s banishment, and refused to accept of any favor from him.  If there had been time, indeed, she would have preferred obtaining the money in the same manner from any one else.  Edward brightened up a little when he heard the sum could be procured; he was almost indifferent how; and, strangely callous, as Maggie thought, he even proposed to draw up a legal form of assignment.  Mr. Buxton only thought of hurrying on the departure; but he could not refrain from expressing his approval and admiration of Maggie whenever he came near her.  Before he went, he called her aside.

“My dear, I’m not sure if Frank can do better than marry you, after all.  Mind!  I’ve not given it as much thought as I should like.  But if you come back as we plan, next autumn, and he is steady to you till then—­and Edward is going on well—­(if he can but keep good, he’ll do, for he is very sharp—­yon is a knowing paper he drew up)—­why, I’ll think about it.  Only let Frank see a bit of the world first.  I’d rather you did not tell him I’ve any thoughts of coming round, that he may have a fair trial; and I’ll keep it from Erminia if I can, or she will let it all out to him.  I shall see you to-morrow at the coach.  God bless you, my girl, and keep you on the great wide sea.”  He was absolutely in tears when he went away—­tears of admiring regret over Maggie.

CHAPTER X.

The more Maggie thought, the more she felt sure that the impulse on which she had acted in proposing to go with her brother was right.  She feared there was little hope for his character, whatever there might be for his worldly fortune, if he were thrown, in the condition of mind in which he was now, among the set of adventurous men who are continually going over to America in search of an El Dorado to be discovered by their wits.  She knew she had but little influence over him at present; but she would not doubt or waver in her hope that patience and love might work him right