The Colonel was moved. “With such genuine affection you should surely lead her and work upon her! I trust you will be able.”
“It is less that,” said Alick, rather resentfully, “than sympathy that she wants. Nobody ever gave her that except your Ermine! By-the-bye, is there any news of the brother?”
Colonel Keith shook his head. “I believe I shall have to go to Russia,” he said with some dejection.
“After that, reproach one with chivalry,” said Alick, lightly. “Nay, I beg your pardon. Shall I take any message down to Mackarel Lane?”
“Are you going?”
“Well, yes, though I hardly ought to venture there till this embargo is taken off; for she is the one person there will be some pleasure in talking to. Perhaps I may reckon you as the same in effect.”
The Colonel responded with a less cheerful look than usual, adding, “I don’t know whether to congratulate you, Alick, on having to ask no one’s consent but your own at your age.”
“Especially not my guardian’s!” said Alick, with the desired effect of making him laugh.
“No, if you were my son, I would not interfere,” he added gravely. “I only feared your not knowing what you were about. I see you do know it, and it merely becomes a question of every man to his taste—except for one point, Alick. I am afraid there may have been much disturbance of her opinions.”
“Surface work,” said Alick, “some of the effects of the literature that paints contradiction as truth. It is only skin deep, and makes me wish all the more to have her with my uncle for a time. I wonder whether Grace would let me in if I went back again!”