"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."