“I can do it,” he said. “I know I can. I shall never do any good in business. I must lead men. I must move them, lift them up, show them the way to higher things.”
Annette stopped in the doorway, and said:
“Am I in the way?”
“Not at all,” returned Francis. “Come in. Mr. Lawrie is being very entertaining. We were discussing the possibility of his taking Orders.”
“That would be lovely,” said Annette.
Bennett turned to her.
“You think I could do it, don’t you?”
It was the first time he or any of the young men who came to the house had spoken to her directly, and Annette felt curiously grateful to him. She stammered:
“I . . . I’m sure you . . . you could.”
“It’s what I’ve wanted to do all my life, only I’ve always thought it impossible. You’ll laugh, I know, sir, but I used to preach sermons when I was a boy, just to myself in my bed-room, and I made a little altar when I was sixteen. I never dared talk about it at home. They always laughed at me. I never dared tell them what I wanted to do. They said I must go into an office when I was sixteen, and I went there. . . . You know we, Gertrude and I, thought you would take me as curate as soon as I was ordained, and then when I got a living we could be married.”