“And he goes to-morrow—­perhaps to get killed,” he added.  “A lad like a schoolboy.  A young thing.  Because of the political foolery that we priests and teachers have suffered in the place of the Kingdom of God, because we have allowed the religion of Europe to become a lie; because no man spoke the word of God.  You see—­when I see that—­see those two, those children of one-and-twenty, wrenched by tragedy, beginning with a parting....  It’s like a knife slashing at all our appearances and discretions....  Think of our lovemaking....”

The front door banged.

He had some idea of resuming their talk.  But his was a scattered mind now.

“It’s a quarter to eight,” he said as if in explanation.

“I must see to the supper,” said Lady Ella.

(16)

There was an air of tension at supper as though the whole family felt that momentous words impended.  But Phoebe had emerged victorious from her mathematical struggle, and she seemed to eat with better appetite than she had shown for some time.  It was a cold meat supper; Lady Ella had found it impossible to keep up the regular practice of a cooked dinner in the evening, and now it was only on Thursdays that the Scropes, to preserve their social tradition, dressed and dined; the rest of the week they supped.  Lady Ella never talked very much at supper; this evening was no exception.  Clementina talked of London University and Bedford College; she had been making enquiries; Daphne described some of the mistresses at her new school.  The feeling that something was expected had got upon Scrope’s nerves.  He talked a little in a flat and obvious way, and lapsed into thoughtful silences.  While supper was being cleared away he went back into his study.

Thence he returned to the dining-room hearthrug as his family resumed their various occupations.

He tried to speak in a casual conversational tone.

“I want to tell you all,” he said, “of something that has happened to-day.”

He waited.  Phoebe had begun to figure at a fresh sheet of computations.  Miriam bent her head closer over her work, as though she winced at what was coming.  Daphne and Clementina looked at one another.  Their eyes said “Eleanor!” But he was too full of his own intention to read that glance.  Only his wife regarded him attentively.

“It concerns you all,” he said.

He looked at Phoebe.  He saw Lady Ella’s hand go out and touch the girl’s hand gently to make her desist.  Phoebe obeyed, with a little sigh.

“I want to tell you that to-day I refused an income that would certainly have exceeded fifteen hundred pounds a year.”

Clementina looked up now.  This was not what she expected.  Her expression conveyed protesting enquiry.

“I want you all to understand why I did that and why we are in the position we are in, and what lies before us.  I want you to know what has been going on in my mind.”