"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun. I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me something about affairs at Netherglen."
He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.
"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by surprise now."
The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.
"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.
"Thanks. That's a compliment."
"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and resumed, in an airier tone than ever.
"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you always wanted me to do that, I remember."
"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man, didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."
Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad, but the defiant bitterness disappeared.