‘You are very generous to me, and I feel it deeply,’ said the young man; but he was almost choked with the words.
‘You have told me already, Gorman, that your aunt gave you no other reason against coming here than that I had not been to call on you; and I believe you—believe you thoroughly; but tell me now, with the same frankness, was there nothing passing in your mind—had you no suspicions or misgivings, or something of the same kind, to keep you away? Be candid with me now, and speak it out freely.’
‘None, on my honour; I was sorely grieved to be told I must not come, and thought very often of rebelling, so that indeed, when I did rebel, I was in a measure prepared for the penalty, though scarcely so heavy as this.’
‘Don’t take it to heart. It will come right yet—everything comes right if we give it time—and there’s plenty of time to the fellow who is not five-and-twenty. It’s only the old dogs, like myself, who are always doing their match against time, are in a hobble. To feel that every minute of the clock is something very like three weeks of the almanac, flurries a man, when he wants to be cool and collected. Put your hat on a peg, and make your home here. If you want to be of use, Kitty will show you scores of things to do about the garden, and we never object to see a brace of snipe at the end of dinner, though there’s nobody cares to shoot them; and the bog trout—for all their dark colour—are excellent catch, and I know you can throw a line. All I say is, do something, and something that takes you into the open air. Don’t get to lying about in easy-chairs and reading novels; don’t get to singing duets and philandering about with the girls. May I never, if I’d not rather find a brandy-flask in your pocket than Tennyson’s poems!’
CHAPTER XLVII
REPROOF
‘Say it out frankly, Kate,’ cried Nina, as with flashing eyes and heightened colour she paced the drawing-room from end to end, with that bold sweeping stride which in moments of passion betrayed her. ‘Say it out. I know perfectly what you are hinting at.’
‘I never hint,’ said the other gravely; ‘least of all with those I love.’
‘So much the better. I detest an equivoque. If I am to be shot, let me look the fire in the face.’