“I will go, Ralph; you have more than convinced me that I ought! I will go tomorrow, though where—”
“You have the rest of the day to think where. I should go abroad and amuse myself; but your ideas of amusement are, most likely, not mine. At any rate, wherever you go, I can always supply you with money, when you want it; you can write to me, after you have been away some little time, and I can write back, as soon as I have good news to tell you. Only stick to your present determination, Basil, and, I’ll answer for it, you will be back in your own study at home, before you are many months older!”
“I will put it out of my power to fail in my resolution, by writing to Clara at once, and giving you the letter to place in her hands tomorrow evening, when I shall have left London some hours.”
“That’s right, Basil! that’s acting and speaking like a man!”
I wrote immediately, accounting for my sudden absence as Ralph had advised me—wrote, with a heavy heart, all that I thought would be most reassuring and cheering to Clara; and then, without allowing myself time to hesitate or to think, gave the letter to my brother.
“She shall have it tomorrow night,” he said, “and my father shall know why you have left town, at the same time. Depend on me in this, as in everything else. And now, Basil, I must say goodbye—unless you’re in the humour for coming to look at my new house this evening. Ah! I see that won’t suit you just now, so, goodbye, old fellow! Write when you are in any necessity—get back your spirits and your health—and never doubt that the step you are now taking will be the best for Clara, and the best for yourself!”
He hurried out of the room, evidently feeling more at saying farewell than he was willing to let me discover. I was left alone for the rest of the day, to think whither I should turn my steps on the morrow.