A few days after this Lord Ashden rode over to Lowdown and requested an interview with the rector and Aunt Delia in the former’s study.
“No one under thirteen years of age admitted,” he said, laughing as the children gathered around him in the hall as usual. The three friends were closeted for more than an hour, and when they came out Aunt Delia’s eyes were red as though she had been weeping, yet she looked very happy too; and at supper she exchanged meaning glances with her husband when the children inquired why Lord Ashden had not remained with them as usual.
When bedtime came Philip was told to remain in the library after the other children had gone upstairs, and then the secret of the afternoon’s conference was explained. Lord Ashden had ridden over from Ashden to ask permission to take Philip abroad for a musical education such as he believed could be secured only on the Continent.
“Of course,” he had said, “I know it is asking a great deal, for Philip has grown very dear to you both; but to me, bereft as I have been of every one I once loved, this dear child has become almost indispensable. For the first time since my poor wife died I begin to feel that the future holds something in it for which to strive, and to which I can look forward without despair. Only give me Philip, dear friends, and I promise it shall be for the boy’s best good; for I love him already as my own son, as I loved his father in the old days.”
“We would be selfish indeed,” said Aunt Delia, with streaming eyes, “were we to refuse such a generous offer, but Philip himself must decide; although of course I know what his answer will be.”
The good rector too, although he could not trust himself to think of how silent and lonely the old house would be without his little nephew, was yet rejoiced that the boy should have such a rare opportunity of cultivating his musical ability.
“I have always said that his playing was wonderful,” he exclaimed proudly; “and I believe our boy will some day make a name for himself and for us all.”
When the purport of this interview was explained to Philip he seemed dazed by the prospect of such unlooked-for good fortune, and for a moment he said nothing, standing quite still with clasped hands, and his expressive face quivering with delight; but suddenly he discovered Aunt Delia furtively wiping her spectacles, and the self-reproachful tears sprang at once to his eyes.
“Oh, Aunt Delia! Uncle Seldon! forgive me!” he cried. “How could I be so selfish as to think of leaving my dearest and best friends? Nothing I can do could ever repay you for your kindness, and certainly I will never, never leave you.”
“My darling boy!” said Aunt Delia, drawing him down beside her on the sofa, while the good old clergyman blew his nose very hard and looked out of the window, “such sentiments do you credit, and are worthy of our dear, dead Philip’s son; but your uncle and I could not think of accepting such a sacrifice. One disappointed career in a family is quite enough, dear boy, and if your father had to give up his art, you at least shall have as good a chance with your music as we can give you.”