“Yes, I have.”
“Now you must know that that is altogether impossible—a thing not to be even talked of.”
“So your father says. I need not tell you that I was very sorry to hear him speak in that way.”
“But, my dear fellow, you can’t really be in earnest? You can’t suppose it possible that he would allow such an engagement?”
“As to the latter question, I have no answer to give; but I certainly was—and certainly am in earnest.”
“Then I must say that I think you have a very erroneous idea of what the conduct of a gentleman should be.”
“Stop a moment, Clavering,” said Mr. Saul, rising, and standing with his back to the big fireplace. “Don’t allow yourself to say in a hurry words which you will afterwards regret. I do not think you can have intended to come here and tell me that I am not a gentleman.”
“I don’t want to have an argument with you; but you must give it up; that’s all.”
“Give what up? If you mean give up your sister, I certainly shall never do that. She may give me up, and if you have anything to say on that head, you had better say it to her.”
“What right can you have—without a shilling in the world—?”
“I should have no right to marry her in such a condition—with your father’s consent or without it. It is a thing which I have never proposed to myself for a moment—or to her.”
“And what have you proposed to yourself?”
Mr. Saul paused a moment before he spoke, looking down at the dusty heaps upon his table, as though hoping that inspiration might come to him from them. “I will tell you what I have proposed,” said he at last, “as nearly as I can put it into words. I propose to myself to have the image in my heart of one human being whom I can love above all the world beside; I propose to hope that I, as others, may some day marry, and that she whom I so love may become my wife; I propose to bear with such courage as I can much certain delay, and probable absolute failure in all this; and I propose also to expect—no, hardly to expect—that that which I will do for her, she will do for me. Now you know all my mind, and you may be sure of this, that I will instigate your sister to no disobedience.”
“Of course she will not see you again.”
“I shall think that hard after what has passed between us; but I certainly shall not endeavour to see her clandestinely.”
“And under these circumstances, Mr. Saul, of course you must leave us.”
“So your father says.”
“But leave us at once, I mean. It cannot be comfortable that you and my father should go on in the parish together in this way.”
“What does your father mean by ‘at once’?”
“The sooner the better; say in two months’ time at furthest.”
“Very well. I will go in two months’ time. I have no other home to go to, and no other means of livelihood; but as your father wishes it, I will go at the end of two months. As I comply with this, I hope my request to see your sister once before I go will not be refused.”
“It could do no good, Mr. Saul.”
“To me it would do great good—and, as I think, no harm to her.”
“My father, I am sure, will not allow it. Indeed, why should he? Nor, as I understand, would my sister wish it.”
“Has she said so?”
“Not to me; but she has acknowledged that any idea of a marriage between herself and you is quite impossible, and after that I’m sure she’ll have too much sense to wish for an interview. If there is anything further that I can do for you, I shall be most happy.” Mr. Saul did not see that Harry Clavering could do anything for him, and then Harry took his leave. The rector, when he heard of the arrangement, expressed himself as in some sort satisfied. One month would have been better than two, but then it could hardly be expected that Mr. Saul could take himself away instantly, without looking for a hole in which to lay his head. “Of course it is understood that he is not to see her?” the rector said. In answer to this, Harry explained what had taken place, expressing his opinion that Mr. Saul would, at any rate, keep his word. “Interview, indeed!” said the rector. “It is the man’s audacity that most astonishes me. It passes me to think how such a fellow can dare to propose such a thing. What is it that he expects as the end of it?” Then Harry endeavoured to repeat what Mr. Saul had said as to his own expectations, but he was quite aware that he failed to make his father understand those expectations as he had understood them when the words came from Mr. Saul’s own mouth. Harry Clavering had acknowledged to himself that it was impossible not to respect the poor curate.
To Mrs. Clavering, of course, fell the task of explaining to Fanny what had been done, and what was going to be done. “He is to go away, my dear, at the end of two months.”
“Very well, mamma.”
“And, of course, you and he are not to meet before that.”
“Of course not, if you and papa say so.”
“I have told your papa that it will only be necessary to tell you this, and that then you can go to your school just as usual, if you please. Neither papa nor I would doubt your word for a moment.”
“But what can I do if he comes to me?” asked Fanny, almost whimpering.
“He has said that he will not, and we do not doubt his word either.”
“That I am sure you need not. Whatever anybody may say, Mr. Saul is as much a gentleman as though he had the best living
