“I ought to apologize for having nobody to meet you, but I had something to say—something to suggest—and I thought perhaps——”
John interrupted with affectionate protestations, and a tremor passed over the wrinkles about the old man's eyes.
“It is a great happiness to me, my dear boy, that you have turned your back on that Brotherhood, but I presume you intend to adhere to the Church?”
John intended to take priest's orders without delay, and then go on with his work as a clergyman.
“Just so, just so”—the long, tapering fingers drummed on the table—“and I should like to do something to help you.”
Then sipping at his wine-glass of water, the Prime Minister, in his slow, deep voice and official tone, began to detail his scheme. There was a bishopric vacant. It was only a colonial one—the Bishopric of Colombo. The income was small, no more than seventeen hundred pounds, the work was not light, and there were fifty clergy. Then a colonial bishopric was not usually a stepping-stone to preferment at home, yet still——
John interrupted again. “You are most kind, uncle, but I am only looking forward to living the life of a poor priest, out of sight of the world and the Church.”
“Surely Colombo is sufficiently out of sight, my boy?”
“But I see no necessity to leave London.”
The Prime Minister glanced at him steadily, with the concentrated expression of a man who is accustomed to penetrate the thoughts and feelings of another.