Doctor Chantry wagged a pathetic negative.
"Haven't you ever been ready to dare anything and everything, because something in you said—I must!"
Again Doctor Chantry wagged a negative.
"Now I have to break bounds—I have to leave the manor and try my fortune! I can't wait for times and seasons—to be certain of this—to be certain of that!—I am going to leave the house to-night—and I am going to France!"
"My God!" cried Doctor Chantry, springing up. "He is going to France!—Rouse the servants!—Call De Chaumont!" He struck his gouty foot against the chair and sat down nursing it in both hands. I restrained him and added my sympathy to his groans.
"Have you as much as a Spanish real of your own, my lad?" he catechised me, when the foot was easy.
I acknowledged that I had not.
"It costs dear to travel about the world. It is not like coming down the trail from St. Regis to Lake George. How are you to travel without money?"
I laughed at the very uncertainty, and answered that money would be found.
"Found! It isn't found, I tell you! It is inherited by the idle, or gathered by the unscrupulous, or sweated and toiled for! It costs days and years, and comes in drops. You might as well expect to find a kingdom, lad!"