Don't you think with me, Laura?" He scarcely dared to look
her in the face as he spoke. Any lingering hope that he might
have--any feeble hold that he might feel upon the last spar of his
wrecked fortune, he knew he was casting away; and he let the wave of
his calamity close over him. Pen had started up while he was speaking,
looking eagerly at him. He turned his head away. He saw Laura rise up
also and go to Pen, and once more take his hand and kiss it. "She
thinks so too--God bless her!" said George.
"Her father's shame is not Blanche's fault, dear Arthur, is it?" Laura
said, very pale, and speaking very quickly. "Suppose you had been
married, would you desert her because she had done no wrong? Are you
not pledged to her? Would you leave her because she is in misfortune?
And if she is unhappy, wouldn't you console her? Our mother would, had
she been here." And, as she spoke, the kind girl folded her arms round
him, and buried her face upon his heart.
"Our mother is an angel with God," Pen sobbed out.
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