By Berwen Banks

"Certainly not, certainly not; and for heaven's sake don't run away

with the idea that I can afford it any better than other poor vicars or

farmers; but knowing that you have a 100 pounds a year of your own,

Cardo, which, by the by, you never spend much of, and which I am glad

to hear you are already beginning to save up, I thought it well to

suggest to you a little holiday, a little break in your occupation."

"Once for all, sir, I have no wish to travel, so do not trouble your

head about me; I am perfectly contented and happy."

There was a moment's silence, except for the Vicar's tapping fingers,

and when he next spoke there was a little shake in his voice and a

little droop in his straight back.

"Well," he said at length, "if that is the case, I need not expect you

to accede to my proposals. When a young man is contented and happy, it

is not to be expected he will alter his mode of life to please an old

man."

"And that man his father! Indeed it is," said Cardo, standing up and

taking his favourite attitude, with his elbow on the mantelpiece. "Why

do you keep me at arm's length? Why do you not tell me plainly what I

can do for you, father? There is nothing I would not do, nothing I

would not sacrifice, that is--" and he made a mental reservation

concerning Valmai.

"That is--nothing except what I am about to ask you, I suppose?" said

the old man.

The words were not amiable. They might have angered another man; but

Cardo detected a tremor in the voice and an anxious look in the eyes

which softened their asperity.

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"In plain words, I want you to go to Australia."

"Australia!" gasped Cardo. "In heaven's name, what for, sir?"

"I have often told you that some day I would wish you to go to

Australia, Cardo. If you cannot afford your own expenses, I will help

you In fact--er--er--I will place funds at your disposal which shall

enable you to travel like a gentleman, and to reap every advantage

which is supposed to accrue from travel and seeing the world."

Cardo way speechless from astonishment, not so much at the idea of

banishment to the Antipodes--for his father had sometimes, though at

long intervals, hinted at this idea--but at the unusual coolness with

which he had alluded to such a lavish expenditure of money; and as he

looked at his father with an earnest, inquiring gaze, the old man

seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.

At last, turning away from the table, and placing both hands on his

knees, he continued in an altered tone: "Sit down again, Cardo, and I will tell you the story of my life, and

then you shall tell me whether you will go to Australia or not."