As he walked along he considered the magnitude of the risks he ran, imprisonment and its consequences, the closing against him of every honourable profession.
Should he escape, then he was firmly resolved never again to engage in such a transaction,—not, however, because of its danger, but because it was repugnant to his tastes rather than not consonant with his principles.
The old man had been associated with the trade all his days, took a pride in it, he could not leave the groove, did not desire to do so, looked on his profession as manly and honourable. He had no wish, no thought, but that Jack should continue in it, but carry it on upon a grander scale, and it was with this in view that he was furnishing him with a fast-sailing cutter. But Jack felt a repugnance against deliberately, at the outset, entering on a career that placed him in antagonism with the laws of his country. Of moral scruple he had not an atom, nor did any moral objection enter into the composition of Winefred's dislike to the trade. His objection was founded on inexpediency; hers on the business being one of 'hole and corner,' as she termed it.
'No,' said Jack, half to himself, 'never again.'
'What—never again?' asked Winefred in a whisper.
He did not answer. He was not responsible to her for his thoughts.
'Jack,' said she in a low tone, 'why did you come out to-night?'
'Why,' he answered, 'for one reason, because you told me not to do so. A man hates to be ordered about by a woman.'
'Even when her advice is good.'