“I might tell you a good many reasons—but one will do. I am going away for good.”
“What?” She turned breathlessly, with a quick pang. The night had grown very dark, but she could see the gleam of his eyes and the outline of his olive face as it leaned over her. “Why?”
“Because—” He stopped, and his quizzical look changed into something deeper. “I believe I ought to. I’ve had a sort of an offer out West, and it’s time I made a change.”
“Is it to lead a new life?” asked Dosia, with deep and tender solemnity. Mrs. Leverich’s words came back to her; this, then, had been all planned.
“Oh, let us always hope so!” said Lawson lightly. “Who knows? Perhaps I’ll turn into a highly respectable individual and make money. You can’t be respectable without money, I’ve tried it, and I know. I had a sort of an opening in Central Africa which my dear brother-in-law pressed upon me, but I decided against it.”
“Central Africa!”
“Yes. I appreciated Leverich’s feelings in the plan—you can’t get back easily from Central Africa, if you get back at all. So I’m going, for good or bad, to a nice little mining-camp in Nevada, where you get your mail every six weeks or so, and where you can go down into your grave any way you please without scandalizing your friends. I’ll be really quite out of the way.”
“Out of the way!” Her heart leaped with pride in him. How little William knew of this man!
“Yes, out of everybody’s way—and yours, dear little girl. I’m not good enough for much, but perhaps I’m good enough for that.”
“Oh,” said Dosia, distressed and fascinated by his tone of real feeling. “But why—oh, I shall miss you so much—and think of you—so much!” Her voice broke. “I can’t bear to think of your going off in this way—so lonely.”