"And you will have what you need, so as to do your work in the world. You must not be afraid."
"I am not afraid. I shall bear my burthen like other men. Every one has some inevitable burthen to bear."
"So I believe."
And now the room darkened so fast that I could not see them; but their voices seemed a great way off, as the children's voices playing at the old well-head used to sound to me when I lay under the brow of the Flat—in the dim twilights at Enderley.
"I intend," John said, "as soon as I am able, to leave Norton Bury, and go abroad for some time."
"Where?"
"To America. It is the best country for a young man who has neither money, nor kindred, nor position—nothing, in fact, but his own right hand with which to carve out his own fortunes—as I will, if I can."
She murmured something about this being "quite right."
"I am glad you think so." But his voice had resumed that formal tone which ever and anon mingled strangely with its low, deep tenderness. "In any case, I must quit England. I have reasons for so doing."
"What reasons?"