"Westmore," he replied, "I always believed you to be a noble man of God, though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you leave Glendow? How will you live?"
"I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit. We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid of me."
"Why not sell that farm you purchased?" suggested the Bishop. "It should bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then."
"I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible."
"But you bought it; it is yours."
"It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!"
The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained the Bishop from saying more on the subject.
"And so you think you must go?" he remarked after a painful silence.
"Yes, I see nothing else to do."
"But remember all have not turned against you. See this list," and the Bishop handed over the petition Mrs. Stickles had given him.