Jean rested her hands on the arms of the chair, and braced herself to thought. The Glasgow Bank! Father had disapproved of it from the first, and had wished Robert to sell his shares, but he had objected because of the high interest given. They were always hard up, and needed every penny they could get. Besides, Robert declared that it was perfectly safe--as safe as the Bank of England; it was absurd to doubt it. And now it had stopped, and he talked of ruin. Jean's knowledge of finance had not increased with her years of matrimony, and after the first shock of surprise she told herself with a sigh of relief that, after all, there could not be so much to lose. When she had spoken of selling shares a few weeks ago, Robert had refused on the score that there were so few left. Robert was so dazed, poor man, that he was exaggerating his loss. He must be calmed and soothed. "Dearest boy, I'm sorry--dreadfully, dreadfully sorry for all those poor people; but you and I have not much to lose, have we? We have rubbed along quite comfortably without a big balance at the Bank, and if a few hundreds have gone--well, we'll do without them, too. I'll turn over a new leaf, and be economical. We'll have no holiday, no new things, the bills for the new furniture are all paid--we need nothing more. Don't grieve so, dear. I'll help you. I _will_ help!" Robert stretched out his arms and folded her close to his heart. The dazed expression was beginning to give way to a yearning tenderness. Jean had yet to be enlightened as to the full extent of the calamity. He must brace himself to the task of explanation. "Jean, it is not an ordinary bank--it's unlimited; that was why your father disapproved. But I thought I knew best--I stuck to my own way. If I could bear the consequences alone I wouldn't grumble; it's for you, and the children. I have only five shares, but I'm responsible, to my last penny. They can clean me out of everything I possess, can sell our furniture above our heads--every stick in the house, leave us without a bed. And they'll do it. The calls will be enormous--must be enormous. I've ruined you, Jean, by my self-willed folly." Jean lifted her lips and kissed him softly on the cheek. She felt faint and limp, as though suddenly overpowered by fatigue; but the predominant feeling was still that Robert was in trouble, that he was appealing to her for strength, that whatever trials were to come, she must not fail him now. "You've given me everything worth having. All the riches in the world couldn't give me happiness without you. If the money goes, we'll have to love each other more, and no bank, no bank, can touch that. Robert!"--her voice broke on a note of exquisite tenderness--"remember what you called me that first day--remember the prophecy! If fortune has gone, you have still your treasure!" And Robert, blessing her, shedding tears of mingled joy and sorrow, declared that he was rich indeed. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.