“No, father, not about Elliot; but pray don’t be angry; I should like to know something about Big Ben.”
“You are a strange lad,” said my father; “and, though of late I have begun to entertain a more favourable opinion than heretofore, there is still much about you that I do not understand. Why do you bring up that name? Don’t you know that it is one of my temptations; you wish to know something about him. Well, I will oblige you this once, and then farewell to such vanities—something about him. I will tell you—his skin when he flung off his clothes—and he had a particular knack in doing so—his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back for combat, and when he fought he stood, so—if I remember right—his skin, I say, was brown and dusky as that of a toad. Oh me! I wish my elder son was here.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
My Brother’s Arrival—The Interview—Night—A Dying Father—Christ.
At last my brother arrived; he looked pale and unwell; I met him at the door. “You have been long absent!” said I.
“Yes,” said he, “perhaps too long; but how is my father?”
“Very poorly,” said I, “he has had a fresh attack; but where have you been of late?”
“Far and wide,” said my brother; “but I can’t tell you anything now, I must go to my father. It was only by chance that I heard of his illness.”
“Stay a moment,” said I. “Is the world such a fine place as you supposed it to be before you went away?”
“Not quite,” said my brother, “not quite; indeed I wish—but ask me no questions now, I must hasten to my father.”