He said nothing to this, but moved his feet impatiently. She went on: "The boy must be provided for. And if Judith become your wife, not only will it be proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will give neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy is comfortable and happy."
"Confound the boy!"
"It is all very well to say that, but he who would have anything to say to Judith must reckon to have to consider Jamie also. They are inseparable. Now, I assume that by Judith's marriage Jamie is cared for. But how about myself? Is every one to lie in clover and I in stubble? Am I to rack my brains to find a home for my nephew and niece, only that I may be thrust out myself? To find for them places at your table, that I may be deprived of a crust and a bone under it? If no one else will consider me, I must consider myself. I am the last representative of an ancient and honorable family—" She saw Coppinger move his hand, and thought he expressed dissent. She added hastily, "As to Judith and Jamie, they take after their Scotch mother. I do not reckon them as Trevisas."
"Come—tell me what you want," said Coppinger, impatiently.
"I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not spend it in the poor-house."
"What do you ask?"
"Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and Othello Cottage that is on your land."
"You ask enough."
"You will never get Judith without granting me that."
"Well—get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it."
"Will you swear to it?"
"Yes."
"And give me—I desire that—the promise in writing."
"You shall have it."
"Then I will help you."
"How?"
"Leave that to me. I am her guardian."
"But not of her heart?"
"Leave her to me. You shall win her."
"How?"
"Through Jamie."
