A curious, heavy-hearted feeling came upon him, as he turned away, and went slowly back towards the other house.
He halted a moment under the Cross, and stared up at it. The door of the Fathers' House opened, and the Travelling Priest stood on the threshold. The Boy went over to him, nodding good-morning.
"So you are all ready—eager to go from us?"
"No; but, you see—"
"I see."
He held the door open, and the Boy went in.
"I don't believe the Colonel's awake yet," he said, as he took off his furs. "I'll just run up and rouse him."
"It is very early"—the priest laid his hand on the young man's arm—"and he will not sleep so well for many a night to come. It is an hour till breakfast."
Henry had lit the fire, and now left it roaring. The priest took a chair, and pushed one forward for his guest.
The Boy sat down, stretched his legs out straight towards the fire, and lifting his hands, clasped them behind his head. The priest read the homesick face like a book.