Unconsciously he uttered these words, which betrayed the nature of his worst forebodings.
"Oh, this is weakness," he then added. "I must fight out against this; it is mere nervousness. I must not endure it, I will not suffer myself thus to become the sport of imagination. Courage, courage, Charles Holland. There are real evils enough, without your adding to them by those of a disordered fancy. Courage, courage, courage."
CHAPTER XXV.
THE ADMIRAL'S OPINION.—THE REQUEST OF CHARLES.
Charles then sought the admiral, whom he found with his hands behind him, pacing to and fro in one of the long walks of the garden, evidently in a very unsettled state of mind. When Charles appeared, he quickened his pace, and looked in such a state of unusual perplexity that it was quite ridiculous to observe him.
"I suppose, uncle, you have made up your mind thoroughly by this time?"
"Well, I don't know that."