"Should you be very much disappointed if--if we do not go to Longfield after all?""Not go to Longfield!"The involuntary exclamation showed how deep her longing had been.
"Because I am afraid--it is hard,I know--but I am afraid we cannot manage it.Are you very sorry?""Yes,"she said frankly and truthfully."Not so much for myself,but--the children.""Ay,the poor children."
Ursula stitched away rapidly for some moments,till the grieved look faded out of her face;then she turned it,all cheerful once more,to her husband."Now,John,tell me.Never mind about the children.
Tell me."
He told her,as was his habit at all times,of some losses which had to-day befallen him--bad debts in his business--which would make it,if not impracticable,at least imprudent,to enter on any new expenses that year.Nay,he must,if possible,retrench a little.
Ursula listened,without question,comment,or complaint.
"Is that all?"she said at last,very gently.
"All."
"Then never mind.I do not.We will find some other pleasures for the children.We have so many pleasures,ay,all of us.Husband,it is not so hard to give up this one."He said,in a whisper,low almost as a lover's,"I could give up anything in the world but them and thee."So,with a brief information to me at supper-time--"Uncle Phineas,did you hear?we cannot go to Longfield,"--the renunciation was made,and the subject ended.For this year,at least,our Arcadian dream was over.
But John's troubled looks did not pass away.It seemed as if this night his long toil had come to that crisis when the strongest man breaks down--or trembles within a hair's breadth of breaking down;conscious too,horribly conscious,that if so,himself will be the least part of the universal ruin.His face was haggard,his movements irritable and restless;he started nervously at every sound.Sometimes even a hasty word,an uneasiness about trifles,showed how strong was the effort he made at self-control.Ursula,usually by far the most quick-tempered of the two,became to-night mild and patient.She neither watched nor questioned him--wise woman as she was;she only sat still,busying herself over her work,speaking now and then of little things,lest he should notice her anxiety about him.He did at last.
"Nay,I am not ill,do not be afraid.Only my head aches so--let me lay it here as the children do."His wife made a place for it on her shoulder;there it rested--the poor tired head,until gradually the hard and painful expression of the features relaxed,and it became John's own natural face--as quiet as any of the little faces on their pillows up-stairs,whence,doubtless,slumber had long banished all anticipation of Longfield.
At last he too fell asleep.