“Not for a visit—he would have you for good and all.”
“But he won’t get me!” cried the school-boy with playful confidence. “I would not change my own dear home for that smoky prison, no, not for all England—and Ireland to boot!”
“He shall not go!—oh, Edward, he cannot go!” exclaimed the mother, rising and throwing her arms round her son, and pressing him convulsively to her heart. “I would sooner starve than send him away!”
George was startled and alarmed at the sight of her agitation, and looked anxiously at his father for an explanation of an emotion which he could not understand.
“It is as well that he should know all,” said Mr. Ellerslie; “let the boy decide for himself.—George, driven by circumstances which I need not explain, I have asked a favour of Mr. Hardcastle, on which the comfort, the independence, I may say the very living, of this family depend. This is his answer; read it.” He pushed the letter across the table to George.
All the healthy glow in the boy’s cheek faded away as he slowly made out the closely-written scrawl. His father folded his arms, and fixed his gaze sternly on the carpet; but his mother watched him with glistening eyes. George stopped more than once as he read, as if to make sure that he rightly understood, and repeated the words “final and complete separation” as he might have done a sentence of death. When he had finished he laid down the letter, and turning towards the sofa, said, in a low, agitated tone, “Mother, what would you wish me to do?”
She buried her face in her hands.
“Do not further distress your mother,” said Mr. Ellerslie, rising with emotion. “I leave the question in your own hands, George; I will never dispose of you without your own consent:” and as he spoke I thought that the hand which he laid on the shoulder of his first-born trembled.
George had evident difficulty in speaking. He could scarcely command his voice. I expected him to break down every moment; but he manfully struggled with his feelings.
“I should like one night, dear father, to think over it, before I make up my mind. Mr. Hardcastle says in his postscript”—he took up the letter and read—“‘As business takes me to London, I shall arrive almost as soon as my letter, and will see you on Saturday morning;’ so, doubtless, he will be here to-morrow. May I wait till the morning before I give you my answer?”