“I have formed no plans,” returned Lewis hurriedly. “When I leave your house my only prospect is to begin life anew, with every hope that renders life endurable shut out from me for ever—I am grateful for your offers, but must decline them. Henceforward I am likely to do little credit to any one’s patronage, and must strive with existence alone and single-handed. And now, ere I leave you, let me again thank you for the courtesy you have uniformly shown me—I expected justice at your hands, you have added kindness also: we shall probably never meet again, but the chances of life are strange, and should it ever be in my power to return your benefits, you will not find me forgetful.”
He raised his hat as he spoke, and turned to depart. General Grant advanced as if he would detain him, but checking himself, he muttered—
“You shall hear from me—I will write to you at your banker’s;” and Lewis bowed and left him.
CHAPTER L.—SHOWS HOW LEWIS CAME TO A “DOGGED” DETERMINATION, AND WAS MADE THE SHUTTLECOCK OF FATE.
“Walter, I am going to leave you,” observed Lewis in a quiet, gentle voice.
Walter, who was seated on a low stool playing with Faust, continued his amusement, merely replying carelessly, “Are you?”
Lewis knew from the nature of the answer that the sound but not the sense of his communication had reached his poor pupil’s understanding, and yet the apparent indifference of the remark pained him; it seemed as if all he loved were falling away from him. He had determined that it would be better for Walter not to be told at once that he was leaving never to return, but to allow the truth gradually to dawn upon him, after he had practically tested his ability to do without him; still he was anxious in some degree to prepare the poor boy’s mind to support the severe grief which he feared his absence would occasion him. Accordingly he returned to the attack.
“Look at me, Walter,” he said. Having caught his eye, he continued, “You did not understand me, dear boy; I am going away—going to leave you for a long time.”