The wind lifted the blind and rustled in the curtains; the dying man breathed heavily, and waited for an answer. Egerton looked across the bed, but Mrs. Arkwright had withdrawn behind the curtain. Arkwright's eyes met the minister's with an earnest, searching glance. “I will be as a brother to your wife while I live.” As he spoke, Arkwright grasped his hand and gave a sigh of content; but when Egerton left the room, Laura refused to touch his hand, and her face was blazing with anger. III “You have been very generous to the chapel, and we thank you very much for keeping up all Mr. Arkwright's subscriptions those three years. The work of God would have been much crippled had it not been for your liberality.” “Do you know, Mr. Egerton, that when you talk in that grave, approving fashion, as if I were one of your devout women like poor Mrs. Tootle, who is really a good creature, although her husband is a sanctimonious idiot, I feel a perfect hypocrite.” “Why do you always depreciate yourself...” “Do not interrupt me, for I am determined to settle this matter once for all, and not walk about in a vain show, as if I were a saint You think me good, and so do the chapel people, I suppose, because I give to foreign missions and Bible-women, and go to the prayer-meeting, and attend the special meetings. Do you know why I do those things?” “Yes, I think so,” said the minister; “but I will hear your reason.” “Because Mr. Arkwright believed in missions and evangelists, and he was... a better husband to me than I was wife to him, and because it would be dishonourable not to use his money for the objects he approved.” “And the services? Is that the reason you are always present, and set such a good example?” And it was plain the minister did not take Mrs. Arkwright at her value of herself. “Oh, this is because... because...” “Yes?” And Mr. Egerton smiled as one who is giving checkmate. “Because you were Jacob's friend, and the only man he... loved, and because, although we have quarrelled several times, and I have been very rude to you once or twice, still”--and a smile brought Mrs. Arkwright's face to perfection--“we are friends also.” “You have been... angry with me,” said Egerton, “when I could not understand the reason, but I never doubted your friendship. If I were in serious trouble, I would come to you rather than to any man.” “Would you really?” Then her tone changed. “I don't believe you, for you would go to some snuffy, maundering old minister.” “And you are good,” he insisted, taking no notice of her petulance. “You are honest, and brave, and high-minded, and loyal, and...” “Pious, with a gift of prayer, you had better add. How blind you are, for all your knowledge and... other qualities. You forgot to add sweet-tempered; but perhaps you were coming to that.” “No, I would not say that, and I am rather glad you are not gentle,”--the minister was very bold,--“for you would not be... yourself.”