‘And let my child sacrifice her youth,--for what?’ cried Mrs. Tracy. ‘Oh, my dear Mr. Renton, things are harder than you think! You don’t know what you say.’
‘Perhaps I don’t,’ said Ben; ‘perhaps I do. Neither of us know. Give me your word to this, at least,--that nothing shall be done without telling me; nothing shall happen before I know.’
‘Oh, what am I to do?’ said Mrs. Tracy. ‘How can I make such an engagement? As if I should be sure to know even before--anything happened! I will do what I can. You know I wish you well.’
‘You will promise to let me know before--you bind her to any other,’ Ben repeated, bending over the little table which stood between them, to look into her face. She thought it was to take up the famous pocket-book upon which everything depended, and uttered a little scream.
‘I will do whatever I can,’ she said. ‘I will plead your cause all I can. I will promise,--oh, yes! Mr. Renton, I promise,’ she cried, eagerly. He had even, as he stooped towards her, touched the price,--as she thought,--of the promise with his sleeve.
And then, utterly to Mrs. Tracy’s bewilderment, Ben dropped into his chair, and covered his face with his hands, and sighed. The sigh was so deep, and heavy, and full of care that it startled her. Had he not just got what he had been struggling for? She had given him her promise,--a reluctant, and perhaps not very certain bond,--and yet he gave but a sigh over it,--the sigh of a man ruined and broken. She looked at his bowed head, at the curious strain of the hands into which his face was bent. What a strange, unsatisfactory, ungracious way of receiving a favour! What a highflown, exaggerated sort of a young man! She was thinking so, gazing across the table at him, sometimes letting her eye stray a little anxiously to the pocket-book, with a pucker on her forehead and a cold dread in her heart, when the unaccountable fellow as suddenly unveiled his cloudy countenance and looked straight up into her face. Probably he caught her glance retreating from the pocket-book, for he laughed, and all at once, to her amaze and consternation, took that up.
‘You must take care of your health,’ he said,--and whether he was speaking in mockery or in kindness Mrs. Tracy could not make out,--‘and when this is done let me know,’ he added, dropping it softly without any warning into her lap. ‘I may be rich by that time; and when I am rich, you know, you are to be on my side.’