“Let me, at least, show that it is not fair to shun me.”
There was such a tone of sorrow in his voice as he spoke that Tom turned at once towards him, and said: “If you can make all this affair straight—I mean, if it be clear that there was no more in it than such a passing levity that better men than either of us have now and then fallen into—I don't see why you may not come back with me.”
“Oh, Tom, if you really will let me!”
“Remember, however, you come at your own peril. I tell you frankly, if your explanation should fail to satisfy the one who has to hear it, it fails with me too,—do you understand me?”
“I think I do,” said Trafford, with dignity.
“It's as well that we should make no mistake; and now you are free to accept my invitation or to refuse it. What do you say?”
“I say, yes. I go back with you.”
“I'll go and see, then, if Cave will join us,” said Tom, turning hastily away, and very eager to conceal the agitation he was suffering, and of which he was heartily ashamed.
Cave accepted the project with delight,—he wanted to see the island,—but, more still, he wanted to see that Lucy Lendrick of whom Sir Brook had spoken so rapturously. “I suppose,” whispered he in Tom's ear, “you know all about Trafford. You 've heard that he has been cut out of the estate, and been left with nothing but his pay?”
Tom nodded assent.