"I can't, positively, Victor," said I. "It would cost me my life."
"Then I will lend you one of mine, without interest," said he. "Along you must go, any how, so up at once. Think, my dear boy, of the beauty gathering now in the old mansion at the foot of Lake St. Clair."
"Think," said I, "of my sore bones."
"And then," he continued, unmindful of my remark, "think of the dash along the ice, the moon lighting your pathway, while a cluster of star-bright eyes wait to welcome your coming."
"Oh, nonsense" said I, "and by that I mean your romance. If through my imprudence I should have the star of my existence quenched, the lustre of those eyes would fail in any effort to light me up again, and that is a matter worth consideration."
Even while I talked to him I felt my health rapidly improving.
"What would the doctor say, Victor," inquired I, "if he came here and found me out? Nothing would convince him that it wasn't a hoax, shamelessly played off upon his old age, and he would never forgive me."
"Not so," says Victor, "you can take my prescription without his knowing it, and it is as follows: First and foremost, toss his medicine out of the window, visit uncle's with me and dance until morning, get back by daylight, go to bed and take a nap before he comes, and take my word for it he will pronounce your improved state the effect of his medicine."
"It would be madness, and I cannot think of it," replied I, half disposed at the same time to yield.
"Then I pronounce you no true knight," said he, "I will report to Estelle the challenge that passed between us, and be sure she will set you down in her memory as a timid gentleman!"