“The boy means business,” he thought to himself. “He will try and bolt. How can I stop him? Ah, I have it!” And he set off briskly towards Government House, saying aloud as he went, “I love that lad too well to let him destroy himself over a jilt.”
CHAPTER XII.
ERNEST RUNS AWAY
When Alston left the room, Ernest sat down on the bed again.
“I am not going to be domineered over by Alston,” he said excitedly; “he presumes upon his friendship.”
Jeremy came and sat beside him, and took hold of his arm.
“My dear fellow, don’t talk like that. You know he means kindly by you. You are not yourself just yet. By-and-by you will see things in a different light.”
“Not myself, indeed! Would you be yourself, I wonder, if you knew that the woman who had pinned all your soul to her bosom, as though it were a ribbon, was going to marry another man to-morrow?”
“Old fellow, you forget, though I can’t talk of it in as pretty words as you can, I loved her too. I could bear to give her up to you, especially as she didn’t care a brass farthing about me; but when I think about this other fellow, with his cold gray eye and that mark on his confounded forehead—ah, Ernest, it makes me sick!”
And they sat on the bed together and groaned in chorus, looking, to tell the truth, rather absurd.
“I tell you what it is, Jeremy,” said Ernest, when he had finished groaning at the vision of his successful rival as painted by Jeremy; “you are a good fellow, and I am a selfish beast. Here have I been kicking up all this devil’s delight, and you haven’t said a word. You are a more decent chap than I am, Jeremy, by a long chalk. And I daresay you are as fond of her as I am. No, I don’t think you can be that, though.”