"Certainly not, certainly not; and for heaven's sake don't run away
with the idea that I can afford it any better than other poor vicars or
farmers; but knowing that you have a 100 pounds a year of your own,
Cardo, which, by the by, you never spend much of, and which I am glad
to hear you are already beginning to save up, I thought it well to
suggest to you a little holiday, a little break in your occupation."
"Once for all, sir, I have no wish to travel, so do not trouble your
head about me; I am perfectly contented and happy."
There was a moment's silence, except for the Vicar's tapping fingers,
and when he next spoke there was a little shake in his voice and a
little droop in his straight back.
"Well," he said at length, "if that is the case, I need not expect you
to accede to my proposals. When a young man is contented and happy, it
is not to be expected he will alter his mode of life to please an old
man."
"And that man his father! Indeed it is," said Cardo, standing up and
taking his favourite attitude, with his elbow on the mantelpiece. "Why
do you keep me at arm's length? Why do you not tell me plainly what I
can do for you, father? There is nothing I would not do, nothing I
would not sacrifice, that is--" and he made a mental reservation
concerning Valmai.
"That is--nothing except what I am about to ask you, I suppose?" said
the old man.
The words were not amiable. They might have angered another man; but
Cardo detected a tremor in the voice and an anxious look in the eyes
which softened their asperity.
"What do you want me to do, sir?"
"In plain words, I want you to go to Australia."
"Australia!" gasped Cardo. "In heaven's name, what for, sir?"
"I have often told you that some day I would wish you to go to
Australia, Cardo. If you cannot afford your own expenses, I will help
you In fact--er--er--I will place funds at your disposal which shall
enable you to travel like a gentleman, and to reap every advantage
which is supposed to accrue from travel and seeing the world."
Cardo way speechless from astonishment, not so much at the idea of
banishment to the Antipodes--for his father had sometimes, though at
long intervals, hinted at this idea--but at the unusual coolness with
which he had alluded to such a lavish expenditure of money; and as he
looked at his father with an earnest, inquiring gaze, the old man
seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.
At last, turning away from the table, and placing both hands on his
knees, he continued in an altered tone: "Sit down again, Cardo, and I will tell you the story of my life, and
then you shall tell me whether you will go to Australia or not."