Bonyton groaned audibly, and Sir Richard continued: “Go to England, my dear boy. I see that Charles is wrong, very wrong. I see Cromwell will place his plebeian foot upon the royal purple. I see the virtuous Hampden will be crushed amidst conflicting interests. I foresee great, marvelous changes, the germs of a new order of things. Go, my son, and cast in your mite into the treasury of order and patriotism. You have youth, health, and the impulses of a generous and heroic nature: go, and feel your heart respond to the promptings of duty. Go, and God be with you.”
He had spoken with warmth and enthusiasm, the tears springing to his eyes, and the young man grasped his hand with energy, and replied:
“I will go, my father. I will be all that you depict, sure that Hope will be mine, or will remain as she now is. Shall it not be so, Sir Richard? Shall I not some day, when more worthy of her, call her wife?”
“John, men, who are men, prove their manhood by resisting inordinate desires. Such desires granted often come in the shape of a curse.”
“That they do,” responded Captain Bonyton with bitterness. “Like the hankerings of God’s people for flesh, the Almighty grants it to them, till they are filled with loathing and abhorrence, even of that for which they had lusted.”
Sir Richard Vines, obeying a sudden warm impulse of the heart, threw his arms around the unhappy youth and exclaimed:
“My poor boy! Forget my little Hope, or let her be to you only as a sister.”