“Ah, madam, that makes no difference—­no real difference.  It is not necessary to be able to lecture in order to go into the lecture tour.  If ones name is celebrated all over the land, especially, and, if she is also beautiful, she is certain to draw large audiences.”

“But what should I lecture about?” asked Laura, beginning in spite of herself to be a little interested as well as amused.

“Oh, why; woman—­something about woman, I should say; the marriage relation, woman’s fate, anything of that sort.  Call it The Revelations of a Woman’s Life; now, there’s a good title.  I wouldn’t want any better title than that.  I’m prepared to make you an offer, Miss Hawkins, a liberal offer,—­twelve thousand dollars for thirty nights.”

Laura thought.  She hesitated.  Why not?  It would give her employment, money.  She must do something.

“I will think of it, and let you know soon.  But still, there is very little likelihood that I—­however, we will not discuss it further now.”

“Remember, that the sooner we get to work the better, Miss Hawkins, public curiosity is so fickle.  Good day, madam.”

The close of the trial released Mr. Harry Brierly and left him free to depart upon his long talked of Pacific-coast mission.  He was very mysterious about it, even to Philip.

“It’s confidential, old boy,” he said, “a little scheme we have hatched up.  I don’t mind telling you that it’s a good deal bigger thing than that in Missouri, and a sure thing.  I wouldn’t take a half a million just for my share.  And it will open something for you, Phil.  You will hear from me.”

Philip did hear, from Harry a few months afterward.  Everything promised splendidly, but there was a little delay.  Could Phil let him have a hundred, say, for ninety days?

Philip himself hastened to Philadelphia, and, as soon as the spring opened, to the mine at Ilium, and began transforming the loan he had received from Squire Montague into laborers’ wages.  He was haunted with many anxieties; in the first place, Ruth was overtaxing her strength in her hospital labors, and Philip felt as if he must move heaven and earth to save her from such toil and suffering.  His increased pecuniary obligation oppressed him.  It seemed to him also that he had been one cause of the misfortune to the Bolton family, and that he was dragging into loss and ruin everybody who associated with him.  He worked on day after day and week after week, with a feverish anxiety.

It would be wicked, thought Philip, and impious, to pray for luck; he felt that perhaps he ought not to ask a blessing upon the sort of labor that was only a venture; but yet in that daily petition, which this very faulty and not very consistent young Christian gentleman put up, he prayed earnestly enough for Ruth and for the Boltons and for those whom he loved and who trusted in him, and that his life might not be a misfortune to them and a failure to himself.