'What is that, Pitt?' his mother said anxiously.
'Have family prayer.'
If a bombshell had suddenly alighted on the table and there exploded, there would have been, no doubt, more feeling of fright, but not more of shocked surprise. Dumb silence followed. Angry eyes were directed towards the speaker from the top and from the bottom of the table. Miss Frere cast down hers with the inward thought, 'Oh, you foolish, foolish fellow! what did you do that for, and spoil everything!' Pitt waited a little.
'It is duty,' he said. 'You yourselves will grant me that.'
'And you fancy it is your duty to remind us of ours!' said his father, with contained scorn.
The mother's agitation was violent—so violent that she had difficulty to command herself. What it was that moved her so painfully she could not have told; her thoughts were in too much of a whirl. Between anger, and fear, and something else, she was in the greatest confusion, and not able to utter a syllable. Betty sat internally railing at Pitt's folly.
'The only question is, Is it duty?—in either case,' the son said steadfastly.
'Exactly!' said his father. 'Well, you have done yours; and I will do mine.'
His wife wondered at his calmness, and guessed that it was studied.
Neither of them was prepared for Pitt's next word.
'Will you?' he said simply. 'And will you let me make a beginning now?
Because I am going away?'