“But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to be off--to refuse my offer--and that the rejection comes from them?” “No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and knew more of the world,--that is to say, had met a great many more hard rubs and disappointments,--my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter. You may rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind that he's only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used to make fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud, out of the way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them. He might die, his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove! there's nothing so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And putting one thing with another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to stay where he is,'--open a shop at home, or go to one of the colonies,--Heligoland, for instance, a charming spot for the bathing-season.” “And she, what did she say?” “May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced she ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made her cry.” “Made her cry!” “Not cry,--that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,--a rather soft bit of parting, too,--and I said something about my coming back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they make them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and--and, in fact, there it rests.” “I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like how I stand in it.” “But you stand out of it,--out of it altogether! Can't you imagine that your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him without needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for aught you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If it had been the girl,--if it had been Polly--” “I own frankly,” said Conyers, tartly, “it did not occur to me to make such an offer to _her!_” “Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,--so near, that when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so.” “Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to repair the omission.” “That's true, Fred,--that's true; but have you never, by an accident, chanced to come up with a stunning fence,--a regular rasper that you took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at the place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at _that?_'”