I went back to John.
"I must leave you, darling!" he said. "I cannot subject you to the risk
of such another outrage! I fear sometimes my mother may be what she would
have you think me. I ought to have said, I hope she is. It would be the
only possible excuse for her behaviour. The natural end of loving one's
own way, is to go mad. If you don't get it, you go mad; if you do get it,
you go madder--that's all the difference!--I must go!"
I tried to expostulate with him, but it was of no use.
"Where will you go?" I said. "You cannot go home!"
"I would at once," he answered, "if I could take the reins in my own
hands. But I will go to London, and see the family-lawyer. He will tell
me what I had better do."
"You have no money!" I said.
"How do you know that?" he returned with a smile. "Have you been
searching my pockets?"
"John!" I cried.
He broke into a merry laugh.
"Your uncle will lend me a five-pound-note," he said.
"He will lend you as much as you want; but I don't think he's in the
house," I answered. "I have two myself, though! I'll run and fetch them."
I bounded away to get the notes. It was like having a common purse
already, to lend John ten pounds! But I had no intention of letting him
leave the house the same day he was first out of his room after such an
illness--that was, if I could help it.
My uncle had given me the use of a drawer in that same cabinet in which
were the precious stones; and there, partly, I think, from the pride of
sharing the cabinet with my uncle, I had long kept everything I counted
precious: I should have kept Zoe there if she had not been alive and too
big!
CHAPTER XXV.
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