"It was sober earnest, Lucy. I shall go as soon as I possibly can now."
"But why?" she presently asked.
"I should have left, as you heard me say, after Mrs. Verner's death, but for one or two considerations. Decima very much wished me to remain until her marriage; and—I did not see my way particularly clear to embark in a new course of life. I do not see it yet."
"Why should you go?" asked Lucy.
"Because I—because it is expedient that I should, for many reasons," he answered.
"You do not like to remain subservient to John Massingbird?"
"It is not that. I have got over that. My prospects have been so utterly blighted, Lucy, that I think some of the old pride of the Verner race has gone out of me. I do not see a chance of getting anything to do half as good as this stewardship—as he but now called it—under John Massingbird. But I shall try at it."
"What shall you try, do you think?"
"I cannot tell. I should like to get something abroad; I should like to go to India. I do not suppose I have any real chance of getting an appointment there; but stopping in Deerham will certainly not bring it to me: that, or anything else."
Lucy's lips had parted. "You will not think of going to India now!" she breathlessly exclaimed.