She could hardly tell whether he was in jest or earnest; but this was certain, he meant to cheer and comfort her, and she took the comfort, and was thankful.

“Now to the point,” continued Mr. Roy.  “You feel that, in a worldly point of view, these two have done a very foolish thing, and you have aided and abetted them in doing it?”

“Not so,” she cried, laughing; “I had no idea of such a thing till David told me yesterday morning of his intentions.”

“Yes, and he explained to me why he told you, and why he dared not wait any longer.  He blurts out every thing, the foolish boy!  But he has made friends with me now.  They do seem such children, do they not, compared with old folks like you and me?”

What was it in the tone or the words which made her feel not in the least vexed, nor once attempt to rebut the charge of being “old?”

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Robert Roy, with one of his sage smiles, “you must not go and vex yourself needlessly about trifles.  We should not judge other people by ourselves.  Every body is so different.  Dalziel may make his way all the better for having that pretty creature for a wife, not but what some other pretty creature might soon have done just as well.  Very few men have tenacity of nature enough, if they can not get the one woman they love, to do without any other to the end of their days.  But don’t be disappointed yourself about your girl.  David will make her a very good husband.  They will be happy enough, even though not very rich.”

“Does that matter much?”

“I used to think so.  I had so sore a lesson of poverty in my youth, that it gave me an almost morbid terror of it, not for myself, but for any woman I cared for.  Once I would not have done as Dalziel has for the world.  Now I have changed my mind.  At any rate, David will not have one misfortune to contend with.  He has a thoroughly good opinion of himself, poor fellow!  He will not suffer from that horrible self-distrust which makes some men let themselves drift on and on with the tide, instead of taking the rudder into their own hands and steering straight on—­direct for the haven where they would be.  Oh, that I had done it.”

He spoke passionately, and then sat silent.  At last, muttering something about “begging her pardon,” and “taking a liberty,” he changed the conversation into another channel, by asking whether this marriage, when it happened—­which, of course could not be just immediately—­would make any difference to her circumstances.

Some difference, she explained, because the girls would receive their little fortunes whenever they came of age or married, and the sisters would not like to be parted; besides, Helen’s money would help the establishment.  Probably, whenever David married, he would take them both away; indeed, he had said as much.

“And then shall you stay on here?”

“I may, for I have a small income of my own; besides, there are your two little boys, and I might find two or three more.  But I do not trouble myself much about the future.  One thing is certain, I need never work as hard as I have done all my life.”