“Not, as before, for mere experience’ sake. This time I have got a definite piece of work to do. They say I need not be more than three months gone.”
“Three months!” She looked at him with eyes full of dismay, and he returned the gaze with the blank look of a discouraged certainty beyond appeal.
“Yes,” he said; “it’s a poor thing to have to accept, after all we’ve been thinking of. But, I suppose, it will have to be done whether we like or not.”
“It could not be papa!” cried Madeline, with tears springing to her eyes.
“I can’t tell; I think my father had decided upon it before. It is supposed to be a test whether I have really scruples (which they laugh at), or am merely idle, which is what they believe. I tell them to take the worst view—to say I am merely idle. I am, for that matter.”
“No, Gervase; not if you had worthy work to do——”
“What is worthy work? I don’t want to work at all. It is perfectly true: I think it my duty to be idle; but that is what they don’t understand, nor you either, Madeline. I can find a thousand things to do which are not work, but which occupy me. I ought not to do anything else if I am to fulfil my rôle of a rich man’s son.”
“Gervase, I know what you mean; but it sounds a little fantastic, don’t you think—at least to their ears?”
“Perhaps; they are of their generation, and we are of ours,” said the young man. He was not proud, not to call proud, though he was conscious of occupying a higher standing-ground than “they” did. “They” were the parents—the older set—whose views were exploded, and their prejudices old-fashioned; but whom, nevertheless, both these young people felt it to be their duty to respect. After a little interval he began to tell her what his mission was to be. The house had certain property in the West Indies, from which for many years no profit had been obtained. This was chiefly in consequence of the condition into which the islands had fallen; but partly also because Mr Burton himself had never had the time to look into the matter, to set things right on the spot, which it appeared was the right way. To get a proper account of all that the respective agents—changed from time to time, but each falling back into his predecessor’s ways—had been doing; to ascertain the real state of the property: how much its value had deteriorated, whether it was now really worth anything at all in a mere pecuniary point of view, was to be the mission of Gervase. The most high-minded could not say of it that it was an unworthy mission—nor could he deny that it was one which his father’s son was better qualified for than any stranger. And at the same time it was to be a test of his real mettle. If he did this well, why then, his father would yield a point, and his allowance at least be so far increased as to permit the young people to marry. And perhaps the pleasure of definite work, of accomplishing something which really wanted to be done—of sounding his own capabilities—might change his ideas about work altogether. This was perhaps what “they” most hoped. And Madeline hoped it too, though she said nothing, and though Gervase smiled a little at the idea of a well-considered decision of his own being so lightly done away with. They talked each other finally into a certain acceptance of this mission—finding that it was on the whole a thing rather fine than otherwise, to go off like an adventurer prince to recover the almost lapsed territory and emancipated subjects. “You may be able to throw some new light upon the subject of emancipation,” Madeline said: “if you could only find some means of rehabilitating poor Quashee, Gervase! and making him a human possibility again.” “There is no doubt great need of some independent opinion on that subject,” Gervase replied. This was a wonderful comfort to them, after they had fully familiarised their minds with the idea of a new separation—which was hard, after having so long believed that Gervase’s American expedition was to be the last, and that their marriage was to follow immediately on his return. Though they were so superior in many respects, they were in others just like any other young couple suddenly checked in the midst of their hopes, and thrown back upon the indefinite. It was very hard, after settling to what enchanted places they were to go together hand in hand as soon as their wedding was over, to unclasp their hands and consent to part. For three months! Three months is not a very long time; but when once a parting has been made, who can tell when and how it is to end? Delays come in so easily, so inevitably, when there are thousands of miles of land and sea between two people who love each other. After they had freed themselves for a moment from the immediate burden in that little outburst about emancipation and Quashee, they sat and looked at each other again with wistful eyes.
“Must it be, Gervase? Must it be?”