“You are right, Buttar,” exclaimed Bracebridge, warmly. “That fellow Blackall and his tongue is a pest to society. If he simply bullied he could do very little harm; but, I say, what is the matter with Ellis? how pale and wretched he looks!”
“Bracebridge,” said Ellis, coming round to him hurriedly, “who is this fellow Barber? Where does he come from? Do you know? Oh, tell me!”
“From Doctor Graham’s at Hampstead. I know for certain. He told me so this morning,” replied Bracebridge. “But, my dear fellow, what is the matter with you?”
“Oh, Bracebridge, you’ll know too soon,” Ellis gasped out. They had dropped a little behind the rest of the party. “Yet you’ll not think ill of me. You’ll not believe what he says, will you? Promise me that, without proof, without better proof than he can give. However it may appear, I am not guilty; indeed I am not.”
“What are you talking about?” exclaimed Ernest, thinking that poor Ellis had gone mad. “I have never heard a word against you. Nobody has said anything of which you might complain. Had anyone, I would not believe him, and I am sure your other friends would not. Everybody who really knows you likes you, trusts you, and believes you to be an excellent fellow. You have taken some fancy into your head. Get rid of it, do.”
“It is no fancy, indeed it is not,” said Ellis, more calmly. “Perhaps I was wrong to say anything about the matter. I know that there is a French saying, Qui s’excuse s’accuse. I’ll not excuse myself more than I have done to you. Should anything be said against me, I may rest sure of your friendship at all events. More I do not desire.”
“Indeed, my dear fellow, you may. Whatever others may say, I will not believe you capable of doing anything of which you need be ashamed,” said Ernest, warmly pressing his friend’s hand.
“Thankyou, thank you!” replied Ellis; “you make me feel less miserable. Still your friendship will be sorely tried. Of that I am certain.”
Ernest, during all the time Ellis was speaking, was debating in his mind whether or not he was labouring under some strange hallucination. “Whatever it is that you fear, do not talk about it,” he said, as soon as Ellis had ceased speaking. “It will do no good, and can only make people think things which are very likely far from the truth. I would advise you not to talk even to me about it. Come and have a good game of cricket, or take a turn at fencing, or broadsword, or come and learn golf. There is a Scotch fellow, Macgreggor, who has come this half, and has undertaken to teach us, and it has become all the rage. It’s a capital game for summer, and gives one plenty of exercise. One game or the other will soon knock all such notions out of your head.”
Poor Ellis smiled faintly as he replied, “I am afraid not, but I will try to follow your advice. I will keep up my spirits, and perhaps matters will turn out better than I have a right to expect. I should like to learn golf, if you are doing so. I have once or twice seen it played at Blackheath, and I should think that it would suit me better even than cricket.”