“Mr. Hope——”
“Look here, my boy, call me Barney. Few of my friends say ‘Mr. Hope,’ and when any one does say it, I always think he is referring to my father, who is at this moment giddily enjoying his precious self at Dresden, or thereabouts. You were about to——”
“I was about to say I would very much like to oblige you, but I have scruples about doing what you ask of me.”
“Marsten—you’ll forgive me, won’t you?—but I’m afraid you’re very much like the rest of the world. Fellows always want to oblige you, but they don’t want to do the particular obligement that you happen to want—if I make myself clear. If you want to borrow a fiver, they will do any mortal thing you wish but lend it. Now it happens that, so far from wanting a fiver, I’ll give you one—or a ten-pound note, for that matter—if you will do this, don’t you know.”
“Oh, if I did it at all, I wouldn’t take money for doing it.”
“But I don’t want a fellow to work for love, don’t you know. I don’t believe in that. If I sell a picture I want my money for it—yes, by Jove, I do!”
“If I did this, it would be entirely for love and for no other consideration. But I don’t think I would be acting fairly and honourably if I did it. I can’t explain to you why I think this; my whole wish is to do what you ask me, and yet I feel sure, if I were thoroughly honest, as I would like to be, I should at once say ‘No.’”
“My dear fellow, I honour your scruples; but I assure you they are misplaced in this instance. They are, really. Besides, I have your promise, and I’m going to hold you to it. It isn’t as though I were going to run away with the girl, and marry her against her own wish and the wishes of her combined relatives. If I wanted to see the girl against her father’s will—well, then there might be something to urge in opposition to my project; but I’m not,—and don’t you see that fact makes all the difference in the world? Of course you do. Why, a man ought to do anything for the girl he loves, and he’s a poltroon if he doesn’t. That’s why I’m taking all this trouble and staying in this town of the forlorn. If a girl doesn’t find you taking some little trouble in order to see her, why she is not going to think very much or often about you; take my word for that.”
“I believe you are right. I’ll go.”
“You’re a brick, Marsten! yes, my boy, a brick!” cried Barney, enthusiastically, slapping his comrade on the shoulder.