“I don’t agree with you, sir. It is the best thing that could have happened, and will make a man of me. I shall go to Canada or Vancouver, I think; and in justice to Miss Salado I have come to say that I bind her by no promise,—I only trust in her faith. Some day I shall return to ask her to be my wife. Till then—”
He could not finish, but stood with his lips compressed.
“Humph! Well, I think you are quite right, sir. Come, Very, be a woman. How much capital have you to take with you?”
“None, sir.”
“Then you’ll want some five hundred or a thousand. I have the latter amount, and no particular use for it. I’ll lend it to you at five per cent.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Denis warmly, “but I must decline. I’ll go and fight the battle for myself, and prove to my father that I am not the weak boy he thinks.”
“Quite right. Go and fight the battle for yourself.”
“Papa!” whispered Veronica, with a look of agony in her eyes.
“Yes, my dear; it’s the best thing he can do. You both feel a bit sore, but you will soon forget the trouble. Good-bye, Denis Rolleston. You’re more of a man than I thought you. Write to me now and then, and let me hear how you are getting on. We shall both be very pleased to hear of your welfare. It’s a pity your father is so severe; but there—all fathers are. I am. Good-bye, my lad. I’d select a good ship, and I wouldn’t go steerage.”
“Why not?” said Denis, through his set teeth. “Better begin at the bottom, sir.”