Part 102 (1/2)

”That you are only a big stupid boy, Duncan Leslie.”

”Don't insult me in my misery, man.”

”Not I, my lad. I like you too well. I am only playing the surgeon, hurting you to do you good. Look here, Leslie, you are in pain, and you are madly jealous.”

”Jealous!” cried the young man scornfully, ”of whom?”

”My niece--that man--both of them.”

”Not I. Angry with myself, that's all, for being an idiot.”

”And because you are angry with yourself, you want to follow and rend that man who knocked you down; and because you call yourself an idiot for being deeply attached to Louise, you are chafing to go after her, and at any cost bring her back to throw yourself at her feet, and say, 'Don't have him, have me.'”

”All!” cried Leslie furiously. ”There, you are an old man and licensed.”

”Yes, I am the licensed master of our family, Leslie, and I always speak my mind.”

”Yes, you sit there talking, when your duty is to follow and bring your niece back from disgrace,” cried the young man furiously.

”Thank you for teaching me my duty, my lad. You have had so much more experience than I. All the same, Duncan Leslie, my hotheaded Scot, I am going to sleep on it, and that's what I advise you to do. There: be reasonable, man. You know you are not in a condition for dispa.s.sionate judgment.”

”I tell you any one could judge this case,” said Leslie hotly.

”And I tell you, my dear boy, that it would have puzzled Solomon.”

”Will you go in search of her directly?”

”Will I go out in the dark, and run my head against the first granite wall? No, my boy, I will not.”

”Then I must.”

”What, run your head against a wall?”

”Bah!”

”Look here, Leslie, I've watched you, my lad, for long enough past. I saw you take a fancy to my darling niece Louie; and I felt as if I should like to come behind and pitch you off the cliff. Then I grew more reasonable, for I found by careful watching that you were not such a bad fellow, after all, and what was worse, it seemed to me that, in spite of her aunt's teaching, Louie was growing up into a clever sensible girl, with only one weakness, and that a disposition to think a little of you.”

Leslie made an angry gesture.

”Come, my lad, I'll speak plainly, and put aside all cynical nonsense.

Answer me this: How long have you known my niece?”

”What does that matter?”

”Much. I'll tell you. About a year, and at a distance. And yet you presume, in your hotheaded, mad, and pa.s.sionate way, to sit in judgment upon her, and to treat my advice with contempt.”

”You cannot see it all as I do.”

”Thank goodness!” muttered Uncle Luke. ”You did not witness what I did to-night.”