"Early to-morrow morning, sir."
"I will not attempt to dissuade you, well knowing the difficulty,"
said he, with a faint smile, "but a letter addressed to me at
Lincoln's Inn will always find me and receive my most earnest
attention." So saying, he rose, bowed, and having shaken my hand,
left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Peter," exclaimed the baronet, striding up and down, "Peter, you
are a fool, sir, a hot-headed, self-sufficient, pragmatical young
fool, sir, curse me!"
"I am sorry you should think so," I answered.
"And," he continued, regarding me with a defiant eye, "I shall
expect you to draw upon me for any sum that--that you may require
for the present--friendship's sake--boyhood and--and all that
sort of thing, and--er--oh, damme, you understand, Peter?"
"Sir Richard," said I, grasping his unwilling hand, "I--I thank
you from the bottom of my heart."
"Pooh, Peter, dammit!" said he, snatching his hand away and
thrusting it hurriedly into his pocket, out of farther reach.
"Thank you, sir," I reiterated; "be sure that should I fall ill or
any unforeseen calamity happen to me, I will most gladly, most
gratefully accept your generous aid in the spirit in which it is
offered, but--"
"But?" exclaimed Sir Richard.
"Until then--"
"Oh, the devil!" said Sir Richard, and ringing the bell ordered
his horse to be brought to the door, and thereafter stood with
his back to the empty fireplace, his fists thrust down into his
pockets, frowning heavily and with a fixed intentness at the
nearest armchair.
Sir Richard Anstruther is tall and broad, ruddy of face, with a
prominent nose and great square chin whose grimness is offset by
a mouth singularly sweet and tender, and the kindly light of blue
eyes; he is in very truth a gentleman. Indeed, as he stood there
in his plain blue coat with its high roll collar and shining
silver buttons, his spotless moleskins and heavy, square-toed
riding boots, he was as fair a type as might be of the English
country gentleman. It is such men as he, who, fearless upon the
littered quarterdecks of reeling battleships, undismayed amid the
smoke and death of stricken fields, their duty well and nobly
done; have turned their feet homewards to pass their latter days
amid their turnips and cabbages, beating their swords into
pruning-hooks, and glad enough to do it.
"Peter," said he suddenly.
"Sir?" said I.