His mother came to him; for she loved him all the more fondly, now he seemed degraded and friendless. She could not, or would not, comprehend the extent of his guilt; and had upbraided Mr. Buxton to the top of her bent for thinking of sending him away to America. There was a silence when he came in which was insupportable to him. He looked up with clouded eyes, that dared not meet Mr. Buxton's.
"I am here, sir, to learn what you wish me to do. Maggie says I am to go to America; if that is where you want to send me, I'm ready."
Mr. Buxton wished himself away as heartily as Edward. Mrs. Browne's upbraidings, just when he felt that he had done a kind action, and yielded, against his judgment, to Maggie's entreaties, had made him think himself very ill used. And now here was Edward speaking in a sullen, savage kind of way, instead of showing any gratitude. The idea of Mr. Henry's stern displeasure loomed in the background.
"Yes!" said he, "I'm glad to find you come into the idea of going to America. It's the only place for you. The sooner you can go, and the better."
"I can't go without money," said Edward, doggedly. "If I had had money, I need not have come here."
"Oh, Ned! would you have gone without seeing me?" said Mrs. Browne, bursting into tears. "Mr. Buxton, I cannot let him go to America. Look how ill he is. He'll die if you send him there."
"Mother, don't give way so," said Edward, kindly, taking her hand. "I'm not ill, at least not to signify. Mr. Buxton is right: America is the only place for me. To tell the truth, even if Mr. Buxton is good enough" (he said this as if unwilling to express any word of thankfulness) "not to prosecute me, there are others who may--and will. I'm safer out of the country. Give me money enough to get to Liverpool and pay my passage, and I'll be off this minute."
"You shall not," said Mrs. Browne, holding him tightly. "You told me this morning you were led into temptation, and went wrong because you had no comfortable home, nor any one to care for you, and make you happy. It will be worse in America. You'll get wrong again, and be away from all who can help you. Or you'll die all by yourself, in some backwood or other. Maggie! you might speak and help me--how can you stand so still, and let him go to America without a word!"