It was a dangerous allusion. He changed colour so rapidly and violently that I thought I had angered him.
"No—that would not matter—cannot—cannot—never shall. I am what God made me, and what, with His blessing, I will make myself."
He said no more, and very soon afterwards he rode away. But not before, as every day, I had noticed that wistful wandering glance up at the darkened window of the room, where sad and alone, save for kindly Mrs. Tod, the young orphan lay.
In the evening, just before bed-time, he said to me with a rather sad smile, "Phineas, you wanted to know what it was that I wished to speak about to your father?"
"Ay, do tell me."
"It is hardly worth telling. Only to ask him how he set up in business for himself. He was, I believe, little older than I am now."
"Just twenty-one."
"And I shall be twenty-one next June."
"Are you thinking of setting up for yourself?"
"A likely matter!" and he laughed, rather bitterly, I thought—"when every trade requires capital, and the only trade I thoroughly understand, a very large one. No, no, Phineas; you'll not see me setting up a rival tan-yard next year. My capital is NIL."