I cried out in the joy and relief of my heart. John came over to me, and we clasped hands.
"John, you will not go?"
"No, I will stay to redeem my character with your father. Be content, Phineas—I won't part with you."
"Young man, thou must," said my father, turning round.
"But—"
"I have said it, Phineas. I accuse him of no dishonesty, no crime, but of weakly yielding, and selfishly causing another to yield, to the temptation of the world. Therefore, as my clerk I retain him; as my son's companion—never!"
We felt that "never" was irrevocable.
Yet I tried, blindly and despairingly, to wrestle with it; I might as well have flung myself against a stone wall.
John stood perfectly silent.
"Don't, Phineas," he whispered at last; "never mind me. Your father is right—at least so far as he sees. Let me go—perhaps I may come back to you some time. If not—"