“Then you go in and rest, while I go and see,” returned Richard.
He searched for some time, but came upon no place where a man could even sit down. At last he found a coffee-shop, and went to fetch Arthur.
He found him stretched on his bed, but he rose at once to accompany him—with the more difficulty that he had yielded to his weariness and lain down. They managed however to reach their goal, and the sight of food waking a little hunger, the poor fellow did pretty well for one who looked so ill. As he ate he revived, and by and by began to talk a little: he had never been much of a talker—had never had food enough for talking.
“It's very good of you, Richard!” he said. “I suppose you know all about it!”
“I don't. What is it? Anything new?”
“No, nothing! It's all so miserable!”
“It's not all miserable,” answered Richard, “so long as we are brothers!”
The tears came in Arthur's eyes. Their mother had repented telling them the truth about Richard, and pretended to have discovered that, while sir Wilton was indeed Richard's father, Mrs. Tuke was after all his mother.
“Yes, that is good,” he said, “though it be only in misfortune! But I am a wretched creature, and no good to anybody; you are a strong man, Richard; I shall never be worth calling your brother!”
“You can do one great thing for me.”