"None; but I must get away from here."
"I can understand that perfectly; and I must say that I think you are right. Dr. Ross and I were speaking about you yesterday; he is deeply grieved at the idea of parting with you so abruptly. He says, under any other circ.u.mstances (he was thinking of his daughter when he spoke) that it would have been well for you to go on with your work as usual--the change could have been made after the holidays--but he fears now that this is hardly possible. I am sure you will not misunderstand him."
"No; he has decided quite rightly."
"He will give you a testimonial of which any man may be proud. He told me with tears in his eyes that he never knew anyone so young with so great a moral influence; that your work was at all times excellent, and that he had never had so high a respect for any of his masters. And he begs me to say that you may command his purse or influence to any reasonable extent. He will be truly grateful to you if you will not refuse his help."
"I fear I must refuse it." And Cyril threw back his head with his old proud gesture. "But do not tell him so, Captain Burnett. Give him my kindest, my most respectful regards. Say anything you like, but do not compromise me. I will take nothing but my salary from Dr. Ross."
"Then we will say no more about it," returned Michael with ready tact.
"Every man has a right to his own independence. Have you any place to go to when you leave here, Blake?"
Then Cyril shook his head.
"One can always take lodgings," he replied. "I must go up to town and look out for some situation. I suppose, after all, my testimonials will help me."
"Without doubt they will. What do you say to a secretaryship? I have one in my mind that I think would suit you. It is a friend of my own who is wanting someone as a sort of general amanuensis and secretary. He is a literary man and extremely wealthy, an old bachelor and somewhat of an oddity; but in his own way I don"t know a better fellow."
Cyril listened to this description with languid interest.
"It sounds as though it would do," he replied, after a moment"s reflection. "At least, I might try it for a time. Last night I thought of going to New Zealand. I could get a mastership there."
"That is not a bad idea; but you might try the secretaryship first, if Unwin be willing to come to terms. The work would be novel and interesting, and your mother might not like the New Zealand scheme."
Then, at the mention of his mother, Cyril"s face seemed to harden.
Michael took no apparent notice of this.
"I tell you what we will do, Blake. We will go up to town together. When would you like to start--to-morrow?" Here Cyril nodded. "I have diggings of my own, you know, in South Audley Street. They are very comfortable rooms, and I can always get a bed for a friend. The people of the house are most accommodating. Besides, I am a good tenant. I will put you up, Blake, for any length of time you like to name. I will not promise to bear you company after the first week or so; but by that time you will find yourself quite at home. And we will interview the old fellow as soon as possible."
"You are too good! I have no right to burden you so;" but a ray of hope shone in Cyril"s sunken eyes: he was not the outcast he had seemed to be, if this man stood by him.
"Nonsense! How can you burden me?" returned Michael briskly. "I shall be delighted to have your company. And the rooms are always there, you know. They may as well be used."
"And we can go to-morrow. You see, I am accepting your generous offer; but how can I help myself? I must find work, or I shall go mad."
"Just so, and I will help you to find it. There is some good, after all, in being an idle man: one can do a good turn for a friend. Well, we will say to-morrow. I shall be quite at your service, then; but there are two things that must be done first. Blake, do you know how ill your mother is? I was quite shocked to see her just now."
"Yes, Mollie told me so last night; she wanted me to come down to her, but I knew that it was far better for both of us that I should remain where I was; I was in no mood for a scene;" and Cyril knitted his brows as he spoke.
"You were the best judge of that, of course; but I should advise you to see her now."
His grave tone somewhat startled Cyril.
"Do you mean that she is so very ill?"
"No, I do not mean that. As far as I can tell, I believe her illness is more mental than bodily; but she is evidently suffering acutely. If you leave her to herself much longer I would not answer for the consequences. Her nature is a peculiar one, as you must know for yourself. If you could say a word to her to soothe her, I think it would be as well to say it."
"Very well, I will go to her; but she must not expect me to say much."
"She will expect nothing; but all the same I hope you will not be too hard on her. If you cannot extenuate her fault, you can at least remember her provocations."
A sigh of great bitterness rose to Cyril"s lips.
"I think it is hardest of all to hear you defend my mother to me."
"I know it--it is bitterly hard. Do you think I don"t feel for you? But, Blake, before we leave Rutherford, there is another duty, and a still more painful one. Surely you intend to see your father?"
"I do not see the necessity, Captain Burnett; my father is nothing to me nor I to him."
"You are wrong," returned Michael warmly; "you are altogether wrong.
Will you let me tell you something?"
And then he repeated the substance of his conversation with Mat O"Brien.
He thought Cyril seemed a little touched, but he merely said:
"I think I need hardly see him at present;" and he added in a low voice, "Am I in a fit state to see anyone?"
"Perhaps not; but you may not soon have another opportunity, my dear fellow. Will you put aside your feelings and do this thing for my satisfaction? I have given my word to Mr. O"Brien that I will do my best to bring you together, and if you refuse I shall accuse myself of failure."
"Oh, if you put it in that light, I do not see my way to refuse."
"Thanks--shall we go together, or would you prefer going alone?"
"I could not bring myself to go alone."
"Very well, then, I will drive you over in the dogcart. I am no walker, as you know, and perhaps Kester had better go with us;" and to this Cyril made no demur. "Now I have detained you long enough, and Mrs.
Blake will be wearying for you. I will bring the trap round at half-past two."
Cyril nodded, and they went downstairs together. Michael paused for an instant at the drawing-room door:
"Be gentle with her, Blake," he said, as he grasped his hand. "What is done cannot be undone;" and then he went down to Kester.
Mrs. Blake was still in the same position. The tension of that long waiting had been too much for her, and the old faintness had returned; but when she saw her son she struggled into a sitting posture and stretched out her hands to him as he came slowly, and almost reluctantly, towards her.
"Cyril! my darling Cyril!" Then he took her hand and held it for a moment. "My boy," she said a little piteously, "have you nothing else for your mother?"
But he seemed as though he failed to understand her, and when she pointed mutely to the seat beside her, he did not at once seat himself.
"Mother," he said, still speaking as though the words were difficult to him, "I have come to tell you that there shall be peace between us."
"Does that mean you have forgiven me, Cyril?"
"It means that I will do my best to forgive you your share in the ruin of my life--of all our lives."
Then as he stood before her she threw her arms round him with a faint cry; but he gently, very gently, repulsed her.
"Do not let there be any scene; I could not bear it;" and the weariness in his voice made her heart ache still more. "Mother, I think that we had better never speak of these things again. As far as I am concerned, I will willingly blot out the past from my memory. To-day we must begin afresh--you and I."