But a still more terrible trial awaited Hawkshawe, and that was the formal delivering over of his office to Phipson. He was treated with the greatest consideration, but this sympathetic treatment only added to the agony, though it was difficult to say who felt it most, honest young Phipson, with his soft heart, or the proud and guilty man whose place he had taken. When it was all over, Hawkshawe went back to his house and shut himself up, going nowhere--not even to his garden gate--doing nothing, but morosely sitting in his long cane chair smoking and drinking.
"It is too cruel of them not to let the poor man go away," said Mrs. Smalley; and Habakkuk thought that if he were to go and see him Hawkshawe might be cheered up a bit.
"There is no use, doctor," said Jackson. "I went myself, but could gain no admittance; perhaps it would be wiser to leave him alone. He will come out of this trial all right, I hope----"
"If ever he lives through it," said Phipson, and they all understood, though no one spoke another word.
Smalley now turned the conversation by speaking of a mission school he had founded at Dagon, which had flourished in so remarkable a manner that he almost thought it advisable to go and live there himself.
"And leave Pazobin?" said Jackson. "Why, we couldn't do without you, doctor."
Habakkuk was flattered at the compliment, and explained that after all it was only an idea that might never come to anything, and he and Phipson strolled off together to look at some plants, for Phipson was an amateur gardener and Smalley an enthusiast.
Ruys and Jackson were, alone. "You surely do not think that Dr. Smalley will move to Dagon?" he asked.
"Why not?" was the reply. "If his work takes him there, and he feels a call, he must go--and of course I."
"I know," interrupted Jackson, "of course you will go also to aid and help him." Their eyes met, and his fell before the limpid light in hers.