Marley tried to look upon the note reasonably; he could see the influence that had compelled Lavinia to go, and he knew he had no right to blame her, and yet, try as he would, he could not escape a feeling of bitterness. When he went home at evening his mother instantly noticed his depression, and implored him for the reason. He did not answer for a while, that is, it seemed a while to Mrs. Marley, but at last he said:
“Mother, I’ve got to leave.”
“Leave?” she repeated, pronouncing the word in a hollow note of fear.
“Yes, leave.”
“But what for?”
“Well, you know I’m no good; I’m making no headway; there’s no place for me here in Macochee; I’ve got to get out into the world and make a place for myself, somewhere.”
“But where?”
“I don’t know—anywhere.”
Marley moved his hand in a wide gesture that included the whole world, and yet was without hope of conquest.
“But you must have some plans—some idea—”