On the envelope Alban had added these words: “But of course, before showing the enclosed, you will prepare Darrell’s mind to weigh its contents.” And probably it was in that curt and simple injunction that the subtle man of the world evinced the astuteness of which not a trace was apparent in the body of his letter.
Though Alban’s communication had much excited his nephew, yet George had not judged it discreet to avail himself of the permission to show it to Darrell. It seemed to him that the pride of his host would take much more offence at its transmission through the hands of a third person than at the frank tone of its reasonings and suggestions. And George had determined to re-enclose it to the Colonel, urging him to forward it himself to Darrell just as it was, with but a brief line to say, “that, on reflection, Alban submitted direct to his old school-fellow the reasonings and apprehensions which he had so unreservedly poured forth in a letter commenced without the intention at which the writer arrived at the close.” But now that the preacher had undertaken the duty of an advocate, the letter became his brief.
George passed through the library, through the study, up the narrow stair that finally conducted to the same lofty cell in which Darrell had confronted the midnight robber who claimed a child in Sophy. With a nervous hand George knocked at the door.
Unaccustomed to any intrusion on the part of guest or household in that solitary retreat, somewhat sharply, as if in anger, Darrell’s voice answered the knock.
“Who’s there?”
“George Morley.”
Darrell opened the door.
CHAPTER II.
“A GOOD ARCHER IS NOT KNOWN BY HIS ARROWS, BUT HIS AIM.” “A GOOD
MAN IS NO MORE TO BE FEARED THAN A SHEEP.” “A GOOD SURGEON MUST
HAVE AN EAGLE’S EYE, A LION’S HEART, AND A LADY’S HAND.” “A GOOD
TONGUE IS A GOOD WEAPON.” AND DESPITE THOSE SUGGESTIVE OR
ENCOURAGING PROVERBS, GEORGE MORLEY HAS UNDERTAKEN SOMETHING SO
OPPOSED TO ALL PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY THAT IT BECOMES A GRAVE
QUESTION WHAT HE WILL DO WITH IT.