“I'll get you out of this in the morning,” declared Benson shortly.
“No, you won't!” said the young man quietly. “This is my affair. You can't get me out of it unless I am willing to be got out, and I won't be willing—my mind's made up; in fact, it was made up the moment I heard the news, only I didn't know it; but I know it now. It's the sort of a chance I've been looking for all along to escape from this. It's been all nonsense my reading law; but this, this is going to be right in my line.”
“Stephen,” said Benson sternly. “Pardon me, but you are talking like a fool. It's nothing to me what you do, I suppose if you get shot I can survive it.”
“So may I!” retorted the boy laughing. “You know there are worse things than that!”
“You'll oblige me by being serious,” said Benson curtly. “I am thinking now of your aunt, you know that.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Stephen, a trifle weary. “I've thought of her, too,” he added softly.
“This will be a serious matter to her, Stephen; and don't you think that enough sorrow has entered into her life already without you doing all you can to add to it?”
“Oh, what's the use of going into that phase of it to-night, I've thought of all that!”
“Then where's your love for her?” demanded Benson.
“It's just as deep and strong as it ever was!” said the boy defiantly. “You know it is; but can't you understand—I have to go—it's in me to go. I pledge you my word, I've made up my mind a score of times not on any account to be led away by my own wishes, but to stick it out here with you, and perhaps one of these days get where you'd give me the small end of your practice. I am quite hopeless, you see; I shall never be able to stand alone in this profession. I'll never fill the toes of your shoes even, you see I'm not to be fooled!”