Tod winced.
“Be wise in time, lad, now, without further delay, and break off this dangerous connection. I know that in your better moments you must see how fatal it may become. It is a crisis in your life; it may be its turning-point; and, as you choose the evil or the good, so may you be lost or saved in this world and in eternity.”
Tod muttered something about his not deserving to be judged so harshly.
“I judge you not harshly yet: I say that evil will come unless you flee from it,” said Mr. Brandon. “Don’t you care for yourself?—for your good name? Is it nothing to you whether you turn out a scamp or a gentleman?”
To look at Tod just then, it was a great deal.
“Have you any reverence for your father?—for the memory of your mother? Then you will do a little violence to your own inclinations, even though it be hard and difficult—more difficult than to get a double first; harder than having the best tooth in your head drawn—and take your leave of that lady for ever. For your own sake, Joe; for your own sake!”
Tod was pulling gently at his whiskers.
“Send all folly to the wind, Joseph Todhetley! Say to yourself, for God and myself will I strive henceforth! It only needs a little steady resolution; and you can call it up if you choose. You shall always find a friend in me. Write down on a bit of paper the sums you owe, and I’ll give you a cheque to cover them. Come, shake hands upon it.”
“You are very kind, sir,” gasped Tod, letting his hand meet old Brandon’s.