Uncle Luke smiled.
“I knew you would,” he said, quietly chuckling.
“You knew I should? Why did you think that?”
“Because you’re only a big boy after all, Duncan, and show how fond you are of Louie at every turn.”
“I am not ashamed to own that I loved her,” said the young man, bitterly.
“Loved?” said Uncle Luke, quietly. “Wonder what love’s like, to make a man such a goose. Don’t be a sham, Leslie. You always meant to go. You said to yourself, when you thought ill of the poor girl, you would go after her and try and break the man’s neck.”
“Not exactly, sir.”
“Well, something of the kind. And now Maddy Van Heldre has been giving you a good setting down, and showing you what a weak baby you are—”
“Has Miss Van Heldre—”
“No, Miss Van Heldre has not said a word; but your face is as plain as a newspaper, and I know what Maddy would say if anybody attacked my niece. There, what’s the use of talking? You will say with your lips that Louise is nothing to you now, and that you believe she has eloped with some French scoundrel.”