Ernest looked up wonderingly.
“It is my most earnest desire that you should marry Dorothy.”
His listener started violently, turned quite pale, and opened his lips to speak. Mr. Cardus lifted his hand and went on:
“Remember what I asked you. Pray say nothing; only listen. Of course I cannot force you into this or any other marriage. I can only beg you to give heed to my wishes, knowing that they will in every way prove to your advantage. That girl has a heart of gold; and if you marry her you shall inherit nearly all my fortune, which is now very large. I have observed that you have lately been about a great deal with Eva Ceswick. She is a handsome woman, and very likely has taken some hold upon your fancy. I warn you that any entanglement in that direction would be most disagreeable to me, and would to a great extent destroy your prospects, so far as I am concerned.”
Again Ernest was about to speak, and again his uncle stopped him.
“I want no confidences, Ernest, and had much rather that no words passed between us that we might afterwards regret. And now I understand that you are going abroad with your friend Batty for a couple of months. When you return you shall give me your answer about Dorothy. In the meanwhile here is a cheque for your expenses: what is over you can spend as you like. Perhaps you have some bills to pay.”
He gave him a folded cheque, and then went on:
“Now leave me, as I am busy.”
Ernest walked out of the room in a perfect maze. In the yard he mechanically unfolded the cheque. It was for a large sum—two hundred and fifty pounds. He put it in his pocket, and began to reflect upon his position, which was about as painful as a position can well be. Truly he was on the horns of a dilemma; probably before he was much older, one of them would have pierced him. For a moment he was about to return to his uncle and tell him all the truth, but on reflection he could not see what was to be gained by such a course. At any rate, it seemed to him that he must first consult Eva, whom he had arranged to meet on the beach at three o’clock; there was nobody else whom he could consult, for he was shy of talking about Eva to Jeremy or Dolly.
The rest of that morning went very ill for Ernest, but three o’clock came at last, and found him at the trysting-place.