The Squire's Daughter Part 63

"Oh, Ralph," she said, "it is the very thing of all others I should like you to do."

"For what reason, Ruth?"

"For every reason that is great and n.o.ble and worthy."

"He played a cowardly part."

"And he has paid the penalty, Ralph. Your duty now is to be magnanimous.

Besides----" Then she hesitated.

"Besides what?" he asked.

"I have heard you rail at what you call the justice of the strong. You are strong now, you will be stronger in time, and so you must see to it that you don't fall into the same snare."

"Wise little woman," he said affectionately, and then the subject dropped.

It was dark when Jim Brewer paid his visit. He came dejectedly and shamefacedly, much wondering what was in the wind.

Ralph opened the door for him, and took him into his little office.

"I understand you are out of work?" he said, pointing him to a seat.

Jim nodded.

"You understand prospecting, I believe?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can give you a job if you are prepared to take it, and you can begin work to-morrow if you like."

Brewer looked up with dim and wondering eyes, while Ralph further explained, and then he burst into tears.

"I don't deserve it," he sobbed at length. "I did you a mean and cowardly trick, and I've loathed myself for it ever since."

"Oh, well, never mind that now. It is all over and past, and we'd better try and forget it."

"I shall never forget it," Jim said chokingly, "but if you can forgive me, I shall be--oh, so happy!"

"Oh, well, then, I do forgive you, if that is any comfort to you."

Jim hid his face in his hands and burst into fresh weeping.

"Forgive my giving way like this," he said at length. "I ain't quite as strong as I might be. I had influenza a month agone, and it's shook me a goodish bit."

"Why, bless me, you look hungry!" Ralph said, eyeing him closely.

"Do I? I'm very sorry, but the influenza pulls one down terrible."

"But are you hungry?" Ralph questioned.

Jim smiled feebly.

"Oh, I've been hungrier than this," he said; "but I'll be glad to begin work to-morrow morning."

"I'm not sure you're fit. But come into the next room--we are just going to have supper."

Jim hesitated and drew back, but Ralph insisted upon it; and yet, when a plate of meat was placed before him, he couldn't eat.

"Excuse me," he said, his eyes filling, "but the little ones ain't had nothing to-day, and they can't bear it as well as me. If you wouldn't mind me taking it home instead?"

Ruth sprang to her feet in a moment.

"I'll let you have plenty for the little ones," she said, with trembling lips. "Now eat your supper, and enjoy it if you can." And she ran off into the pantry and quickly returned with a small basket full of food, which she placed by his side.

"That ain't for me?" he questioned.

"For you to take home to your mother and the children."

He laid down his knife and fork and rose to his feet.

"I'd like to go home at once, if you don't mind?" he said brokenly.

"But you haven't half finished your supper."

"I'd like to eat it with the little ones and mother, if you wouldn't mind?"

"By all means, if you would rather," Ruth said, smiling through unshed tears.

"I should feel happier," he said; and he emptied his plate into the basket.

Ralph went and opened the door for him, and watched him as he hurried away into the darkness.

He came back after a few minutes, and sat down; but neither he nor Ruth spoke again for some time. It was Ralph who at length broke the silence.

"He may be a long way from being a hero," he said, "but he has a lot of goodness in him. I shall never think hardly of him any more."

Ruth did not reply for a long time, then she said, "I am glad Brewer is to begin prospecting for you."

"Yes?" he questioned.

"I can't explain myself," she answered, "but it seems a right kind of beginning, and I think G.o.d's blessing will be upon it."

"We will hope so, at any rate. Yes, we will hope so."

And then silence fell again.