"No. I must go home," said Leslie slowly, and in a measured way, as if he were trying to frame his sentences correctly in carrying on the conversation while thinking of something else. "Well, you are your own master." "Yes," said Leslie. "How is he?" "Calmer now. He was half mad when he came to, and Knatchbull was afraid of brain fever, but he gave him something to quiet the excitement. Better have given you something too." "What are you going to do?" said Leslie, turning upon the old man suddenly, and with a wild look in his eyes. "Do nothing rashly," said Uncle Luke. "But time is flying, man." "Yes. Always is," said Uncle Luke, coolly, as he watched his companion with half-closed eyes. "But--" "That will do. I cannot discuss the matter to-night, my head's in a whirl. Do nothing rashly is a capital maxim." "But we are wasting time." "Look here, young man," said Uncle Luke, taking Leslie by the lappet of the coat. "I'm not blind. I dare say I can see as far through you as most people can. I am an old man, and at my time of life I can be calm and dispassionate, and look on at things judicially." "Judicially?" said Leslie bitterly; "any child could judge here." "Oh, no," said the old man; "big child as you are, you can't." "What do you mean?" "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 dispassionate 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!"