“I can’t take your last shilling, Richard!”
“There’s no fear of me,” he said;
“I shall have everything I want. It makes
me ashamed to think of it. You must just creep
on for a while as best you can, while I think what
to do. Only there’s the funeral!”
Alice gave a cry choked by a sob.
“There is no help!” she said in a voice
of despair. “The parish is all that is
left us!”
“It don’t matter much,” rejoined
Richard. “For my part I don’t care
a paring what becomes of my old clothes when I’ve
done with them! You needn’t think, whether
she be anywhere or nowhere, that she cares how her
body gets put under the earth! Don’t trouble
about it, Alice; it really is nothing. I would
come to the funeral, but I don’t see how I can.
I don’t know now what I shall say to my mother!—Tell
Arthur I hope to see him again soon; I must not stop
now. I won’t forget you, Alice—not
for an hour, I think. Beg some one in the house
to go in to him now and then while you are away.
I shall soon do something to cheer him up a bit.
Good-night, dear!”
With a heavy heart Richard went. It was all he
could do to get home before dark, having to walk all
the way. His mother was much distressed to see
him so exhausted; but he managed not to tell her what
he had been about. He had some tea and went to
bed, and there remained all the next day. And
while he was in bed, it came to him clear and plain
what he must do. It was certain that for a long
time he could do nothing for Arthur and Alice out
of his own pocket. Even if he got to work at once,
he could not take his wages as before, seeing his
parents had spent upon him almost all they had saved!
But there was one who ought to help them!
Specially in such sore need had they a right to the
saving help of their own father! He would go to
his father and their father—and as the words
rose in his mind, he wondered where he had heard something
like them before.
The next day he begged his father and mother to let
him spend a week or two with his grandfather.
THE CAVE IN THE FIRE.
The day after, well wrapt from the cold, he took his
place in a slow train, and at the station was heartily
welcomed by his grandfather, who had come with his
pony-cart to take him home. Settled in the room
once occupied by Alice, he felt like a usurper, a
robber of the helpless: he had left her in misery
and wretchedness, and was in the heart of the comfort
that had once been hers. He had to tell himself
that it was foolish; that he was there for her sake.
He took his grandfather at once into his confidence,
begging him not to let his mother know: and Simon,
who had in former days experienced something of the
hardness of his true-hearted daughter, entered into
the thing with a brooding kind of smile. He saw
no reason why Richard should not make the attempt,
but shook his head at the prospect of success.
Doubtless the baronet thought he had done all that
could be required of him! He would have Richard
rest a day before encountering him but when he heard
in what condition he had left Alice and her brother,
he said no more, but the next morning had his trap
ready to drive him to Mortgrange.
