But we are not all born with a love for mother earth, and you,
meseems, have dreamed of a larger life than lies within the pin folds of
a farm. To tell the truth, my lad, I have been studying you."
They were walking now side by side along the Newport road. Desmond felt
that the stranger was becoming personal; but his manner was so suave and
sympathetic that he could not take offense.
"Yes, I have been studying you," continued Diggle. "And what is the sum
of my discovery? You are wasting your life here. A country village is no
place for a boy of ideas and imagination, of warm blood and springing
fancy. The world is wide, my friend: why not adventure forth?"
"I have indeed thought of it, Mr. Diggle, but--"
"But me no buts," interrupted Diggle, with a smile. "Your age is--"
"Near sixteen."
"Ah, still a boy; you have a year ere you reach the bourne of young
manhood, as the Romans held it. But what matters that? Was not Scipio
Africanus--namesake of the ingenuous youth that serves me--styled boy at
twenty? Yet you are old enough to walk alone, and not in leading
strings--or waiting maybe for dead men's shoes."
"What do you mean, sir?" Desmond flashed out, reddening with indignation.
"Do I offend you?" said Diggle innocently. "I make apology. But I had
heard, I own, that Master Desmond Burke was in high favor with your
squire; 'tis even whispered that Master Desmond cherishes, cultivates,
cossets the old man--a bachelor, I understand, and wealthy, and lacking
kith or kin.
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