The effect was electrical. Kenneth sprang up and waved his bonnet in return, and, a few minutes later, Scoodrach, whose ire had passed away, began to wave his, and Max stood watching and wondering why they did not hoist the sail and return.
And then he did not wonder, but stood leaning over the rail, watching the boat grow less and the figures in her smaller, till they seemed to die away in the immensity of the great sea.
But Max did not move even then. His heart was full, and it was with a sensation of sorrow and despondency such as he had never felt before that the rest of the journey was made, boat changed for train, and finally, and with a reluctance such as he could not have believed possible, he reached London, and stood once more before his father, who met him coolly enough, with,—
“Well, Max, back again?”
“Yes, father; and I want to ask you something about Dunroe.”
“Humph!” said the old lawyer, about half an hour later; “so you think like that, do you, Max?”
“Yes, father.”
“Well, you’ll grow older and wiser some day.”
“But you will not turn them out?”
“When I want to take you into counsel, Master Max, I shall do so. Now please understand this once for all.”