"I shall resign. I am determined upon that."
"We'll all have something to say regarding that."
"But the newspapers to-morrow! It will be frightful."
"My dear fellow, I am about to visit each in turn, and you can remain in the carriage. I'll take upon myself to fix it up so that it will receive scarcely any mention at all."
"My eternal gratitude is yours if you can accomplish that." There was a note of hope in the rector's voice.
It was after eleven o'clock when Cathewe deposited the rector before the parsonage. Cathewe was a great favorite with the newspaper men, and he had had no trouble at all in suppressing the sensational part of the affair.
As for the rector, he sank wearily into his study chair and buried his face in his hands. He had won one fight, but he had lost another of far more importance. Somehow, he had always just reached the promised land to feel the earth slip from under his feet. He was a failure. The only thing he had to be thankful for was that he stood alone in his disgrace. His father and mother were dead. Where should he go from here? He hadn't the slightest idea. He certainly would never don the cloth again, for this disgrace would follow him wherever he went. He was unfitted for mercantile life; he loved outdoors too well. If only he possessed the talent of Cathewe, who could go anywhere and live anywhere, without altering his condition! Well, he would go to the far West; he would put his geological learning into action; and by the time the little money he had saved was gone, he would have something to do.
Ah, but these things did not comprise the real bitterness in his heart. He had stepped outside the circle, stepped down below the horizon of her affairs. True, his wildest dreams had never linked his life with hers; but the nearness to her was as life to him. And now all that was over.
He reached for his writing-pad and wrote his resignation. It was a frank letter, straightforward and manly. He sealed it and stole out and deposited it in the letter-box just in time for the night collector to take it up. He had burned his bridges. They would be only too glad to get rid of him. He was absently straightening the papers on his table, when a small blue envelope attracted his attention. A faintness seized him as he recognized the delicate handwriting. It was an invitation, couched in the most friendly terms, to dine with General and Miss Boderick the following evening. If only he had seen this note earlier! He bent his head on his arms, and there was no sound save the wind in the chimney.