Noting that the pleased look had been followed by one of uneasy perplexity, he says:
"Perhaps you are a little modest about presenting such an order, or the firm do not know you, Mrs. Dodge?"
The poor woman knows not what reply to make.
Having won the confidence of Mrs. Dodge, Sir Donald bluntly says:
"Do not be alarmed. I know your name and something of your past, but I am a real friend of the family, and can be trusted. Tell me just as much or little as you please, but let me know all about present troubles. You are not to blame, and your children must be cared for."
Seeing that she still wavered, Sir Donald gently says:
"You need not tell me about anything, but what can I do for you?"
Before time for reply, the sick child feebly said:
The mother looked frightened, and quickly stepped to the cot, as if to caution the invalid.
"Yes; but, mamma, he has been gone so long, and does not write! Is Bombay a great way off, mamma?"
Moved by impulse to caution the child, motherly instinct toward uttering comforting assurance and wifely loyalty to her husband's safety, the poor woman, stammering incoherently, looked helplessly at Sir Donald.
"But, mamma, the old gentleman said last night that papa might come any time, with lots of money."
Fully convinced that this loyal wife still trusted in her absent husband and was fearful of possible identification, Sir Donald now concludes to learn the whole truth.
Telling Mrs. Dodge that he has news for her, they sit down on a bench at the farther end of the cabin.
Kindly but positively asserting that he knew much more than she about her husband's past life, and could do him much harm, he stated his desire was to help. Some professed friends were Mr. Dodge's enemies, interested in ruining him to shield themselves. These were adroit, and posed as her friends while plotting the ruin of both. It was to save the whole family from deceitful schemes that he now begged her to trust him implicitly, keeping back nothing.
"You owe it to yourself and children to let me know all, that I may help in these troubles."
"Mamma, I dreamed about Brother Benny last night."
"Benny reached out his arms and said, 'Come, Sister Nellie!'"
The reserve which Sir Donald's adroit appeals fail to remove yields to that childish clamor, coercive as brooding of halcyon when the wind is still.