“Uncle,” repeated Tommy, “I am. I once heard Bax say he’d rather go there than anywhere else, if he was to go abroad; so I’m certain he has gone there, and I’m going to seek for him.”
“Wery good, my lad,” said the Captain coolly; “d’ye go by steamer to-night, or by rail to-morrow mornin’? P’raps you’d better go by telegraph; it’s quicker, I’m told.”
“You think I’m jokin’, Uncle, but I’m not, as you’ll very soon find out.”
So saying, Tommy rose and left the hut. This was all he said on the subject. He was a strong-minded little fellow. He at once assumed the position of an independent man, and merely stated his intentions to one or two intimate friends, such as Bluenose, Laker, and old Jeph. As these regarded his statement as the wild fancy of an enthusiastic boy in the first gush of disappointment, they treated it with good-natured raillery. So Tommy resolved, as he would have himself have expressed it, “to shut up, and keep his own counsel.”
When Guy told Lucy Burton that the man who had saved her life had gone off thus suddenly, she burst into tears; but her tears had not flowed long before she asked Guy the reason of his strange and abrupt departure.
Of course Guy could not tell. He had been pledged to secrecy as to the cause.
When Lucy Burton went to tell Amy Russell, she did so with a trembling heart. For some time past she had suspected that Amy loved Bax and not Guy, as she had at first mistakenly supposed. Knowing that if her suspicions were true, the news would be terrible indeed to her friend, she considerately went to her room and told her privately.
Amy turned deadly pale, stood speechless for a few seconds, and then fainted in her friend’s arms.
On recovering she confessed her love, but made Lucy solemnly pledge herself to secrecy.
“No one shall ever know of this but yourself, dear Lucy,” said Amy, laying her head on her friend’s bosom, and finding relief in tears.