‘That is not an answer to my questions.’
‘Well, I consider it my duty to go.’
‘And you wish to go?’
‘I do—now. Even setting aside the prospects he holds out to me, I feel that I must go.’
The father made a mental note of the fact that his son gave no reply to the second question; but he did not press it farther at this moment. He seemed to draw breath, and then went on in a low voice: ‘I think, Philip, you have not found me an exacting parent. Although I have never failed to point out to you the way in which it would please me most to see you walk, I have never insisted upon it. And I will own that on your part your conduct has been up to a certain point satisfactory.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘That certain point is your procrastination in the choice of your future career. You have shown that you do not care about business—and my own conviction is that you are unfitted for it—and you will not decide upon a profession. Although you have dabbled in medicine and law, you have not entered earnestly upon the study of either. I have been patient with this wavering state of mind which you have displayed ever since you left the university. I do not wish to force you into any occupation which you may dislike, and would, therefore, certainly fail in; for then you would console yourself by blaming me for being the cause of your failure.’
‘Oh, no, no—do not think me so ungrateful.’
‘But I did hope,’ continued the father calmly, without heeding the interruption, ‘that before you came to think of marriage, you would have settled with yourself upon some definite course of action in the future.’
‘Your reproaches are just, sir,’ answered Philip earnestly and with some agitation, ‘and I deserve them. But this journey will decide what I am to be and do.’