Part 26 (1/2)
”Then why burn him if he is only a friend?”
”Perhaps he would like to be more; and perhaps there was once a moment when he might have been. But now I shall duly marry Lord Manister--if he has patience.”
”Then why keep poor Lord Manister in suspense, Tiny, dearest?”
”Because I'm not in love with him; and I question whether he's as much in love with me as he imagines--I told him so.”
”As it is, you may find it difficult to draw back.”
”Exactly; so I am burning my boats. Jack, my dear, that's the last of you!”
Her voice satisfied Ruth, who, however, could see no more of her face than the curve of her cheek, and beyond it the blackened film curling from the burning cardboard.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE HIGH SEAS.
”He's done it at last!”
Erskine brandished a letter as he spoke, and then leant back in his chair with a guffaw that alarmed the Portuguese waiters. The letter was from Herbert Luttrell, a Cambridge man of one month's standing, of whose academic outset too little had been heard. His sisters were anxious to know what it was that he had done at last; they put this question in the same breath.
”Oh, it might be worse,” said Erskine cheerfully. ”He has stopped short of murder!”
”We should like to know how far he got,” Tiny said, while Ruth held out an eager hand for the letter.
”I don't think you must read it, my dear; but the fact is he has at last filled up somebody's eye!”
Tiny breathed a sigh of relief.
”Is he in prison?” asked Ruth.
”No, not yet; but I am afraid he must be in bad odor, though perhaps not with everybody.”
”Whose was the eye?” Christina wanted to know.
”The proctor's!” suggested Ruth.
”Not yet, again--you must give the poor boy time, my dear. It may be the proctor's turn next, but at present your little brother has contented himself with filling the eye of the man who was coaching his college trials. It's a time-honored privilege of the coach to use free language to his crew, and it doesn't give offense as a rule; but it seems to have offended Herbert. Young Australia don't like being sworn at, and Herbert admits that he swore back from his thwart, and said that he fancied he was as good a man as the coach, but he hoped to find out when they got to the boathouse. They did find out; and Herbert has at last filled up an old country eye; and for my part I don't think the less of him for doing so.”
”The less!” cried Tiny, whose blue eyes were alight. ”_I_ think all the more of him. I'm proud of Herbs! You have too many of those savage old customs, Erskine; you need Young Australia to come and knock them on the head!”
”Well, as long as he doesn't knock a proctor on the head, as Ruth seems to fear! If he does that there's an end of him, so far as Cambridge is concerned. He tells me the eye was unpopular, otherwise I'm afraid he would have had a warm time of it; though a quick fist and an arm that's stronger than it looks are wonderful things for winning the respect of men, even in these days.”
”And mayn't we really see the letter?” Tiny said wistfully.
Erskine shook his head.
”I am very sorry, but I'm afraid I must treat it as private. It's a verbatim report. I can only tell you that Herbert seems to have been justified, more or less, though he is perhaps too modest to report himself as fully as he reports the eye. He says nothing else of any consequence. He doesn't mention work of any kind; but he's not there only, or even primarily, to pa.s.s exams. On the whole, we mustn't fret about the eye, so long as the dear boy keeps his hands off the authorities.”