We were once more on the open highway. I was glad the scene was over, but I still seemed to see the mild and benevolent face of the old rector, and to hear his parting words.
"So we have really had the honour of enlisting the heir to a baronetcy?" said Kirkton. "You were right to come with us. I thought you were meant for better things than to be squire to a knight of the bluebag."
"What is that?"
"A lawyer. Were we quartered in Bath your story would make your fortune. Any heiress would marry you for the prospect of the title."
"That is flattering," said I; and then thinking of Ruth, I added, "Why not for love?"
"Bah!" said Charters, "people don't marry for that, except in plays and novels."
"Jack, you are a misanthrope in spite of yourself," said Kirkton; "but as this youth is the heir to a baronetcy——"
"I beg to have your promises of keeping the matter a secret when we reach the regiment?" said I, with great earnestness.
"Why?" asked they.
"Because I owe nothing to my family, and hate them as they hate me—the living at least. Whatever I may do to gain honour or promotion, will never be acknowledged by my comrades, who will be certain to attribute success to the fortuitous circumstance of family and name."