“Why?” demanded Aymer.
But that he could not or would not tell them.
Mr. Aston then suggested Christopher should explain what he meant to do concerning his inheritance.
“Which you have treated so far with scandalous disrespect,” put in Aymer.
“I can’t touch it. It would be treason to—to my mother. And I don’t want it. I hate it, the way it’s done, the caring for it.”
There was something so foreign to Christopher’s usual finality of statement in this, that the two older men looked at each other with sudden apprehension and then avoided the other’s eye. For in their secret hearts they both knew that Christopher must presently arrive at the unconfessed certainty that had come to them, that this was not a matter in which he was free to act as he would. The call had come for him to take up a burden he disliked and sooner or later he would hear the voice and recognise the authority to which he had been taught to bow his own will. Yet both of them, without consultation or any word, knew it was not for them to interpret the call for him. Their work was over now. If they had taught him to set no value on the prizes of the world and to regard the means as of equal importance to the end, they had also taught him that duty may come in many disguises, but once recognised, her sway must be absolute. 340 Christopher would discover her in time, but they must hold their peace lest conflicting motives should hamper his surrender to her call.
“I’m going to meet Mr. Saunderson in town to-morrow,” Christopher went on, “I am not quite clear yet how it’s to be worked. I am only clear I won’t touch money of that sort. It costs too much. I feel pretty certain Mr. Saunderson has instructions what to do, if I refuse it.”
He looked at Mr. Aston with an unusual desire for confirmation of his hope and his decision. A strong inclination to appeal for such support pressed him sorely. But he knew it was only confirmation of his own determination he sought, and his ingrained independence of mind shrank from such a proceeding.
“If you know what you want to do and what you ought to do, why appeal to me?” Cæsar had repeatedly told the small boy he was fitting out for life: yet who so kind or patient when the decision still hung in the balance and uncertainty held the scales? There was no uncertainty now, Christopher told himself, and allowed none either to himself or to them. One concession only did he permit himself. He turned to Mr. Aston a little shyly.
“Would you go with me, St. Michael? I am afraid of Mr. Saunderson’s wrath if I am unprotected.”