After due consideration Dick replied that perhaps on the whole a month or two in the country would do his brother some good; though, to be sure, if he were missed from Bath, some people might be found ready to say that he was overcome by the blow of his rejection by Miss Linley. Charles’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of being thus singled out for distinction; and Dick knew why they were gleaming. He knew that his brother would certainly hurry away to the seclusion of the country before it would be too late—before people would cease talking of Miss Linley and the desolation that her cruelty had wrought. He knew that Charles would feel that, if people failed to associate the incident of his withdrawal from Bath with the announcement of the choice of Miss Linley, he might as well remain at his home.
“I shall go, Dick—I feel that I must go,” murmured Charles. “Let people say what they will, I must go. I have no doubt that tongues will wag when it is known that I have gone. I would not make the attempt to conceal the fact that I have gone, and I hope that you will never stoop to pander with the truth in this matter, Richard.”
“If you insist on my telling the truth, of course I shall do so; but I see no reason why I should depart from an ordinary and reasonable course of prevarication,” said Dick, with a shrug.
“Not for the world!” cried Charles anxiously. “No, brother; the truth must be told. I lay it upon you to tell the truth.”
“’Twill be a strain at first,” said Dick doubtfully—musingly, as if balancing a point of great nicety in his mind. “Still, one should be ready to make some sacrifice for one’s brother: one should be ready at his bidding to make a departure even from a long-cherished habit. Yes, Charles, I love you so well that I’ll e’en tell the truth at your bidding.”
“God bless you, Dick—God bless you!” said Charles with real tears in his eyes and a tremolo note in his voice as he turned away. He never could understand his brother’s humour.
“Hasten and pack your bag, and get off at once, or people will cease to be suspicious, and disbelieve me when I tell them the true story of your wrongs,” said Dick. “It would be very discouraging to me to find that my deviation into the truth is not credited. You can send your poem to the Advertiser from the country; mind that you append to it the name of your place of concealment.”
Charles lagged. He seemed a little taken aback.
“The verses would lose half their value unless they were dated from some place of concealment,” Dick insisted.
“I perceive now that that is so,” said Charles. “But, unhappily, it did not occur to me when I sent the verses to the editor an hour ago.”