“I am glad you have spoken.  You were honest to do so.  It was my error not to be convinced at first, and thus save myself a shock I could ill bear.  But you have been sick, and I felt that I should not believe without seeing you.  I had built so much—­so many years—­on your preaching the gospel of—­of my Saviour.  This hope has been all my life these last years—­now it is gone.  But I have no right to complain.  You are free; I have no claim upon you; and I shall be glad to provide for you—­to educate you further for any profession you may have chosen—­to start you in any business—­away from here—­from this house—­”

The young man flushed—­wincing under this, but answered: 

“Thank you, sir.  I could hardly take anything further.  I don’t know what I want to do, what I can do—­I’m at sea now.  But I will go.  I’m sure only that I want to get out—­away—­I will take a small sum to go with—­I know you would be hurt more if I didn’t; enough to get me away—­far enough away.”

He went out, his head bowed under the old man’s stern gaze.  But when the latter had stepped to the door and locked it, his fortitude was gone.  Helplessly he fell upon his knees before the big chair—­praying out his grief in hard, dry sobs that choked and shook his worn body.

When Clytie knocked at the door an hour later, he was dry-eyed and apparently serene, but busy with papers at his table.

“Is it something bad about Bernal, Mr. Delcher,” she asked, “that he’s going away so queer and sudden?”

“You pray for him, too, Clytie—­you love him—­but it’s nothing to talk of.”

But the alarm of Clytemnestra was not to be put down by this.

“Oh, Mr. Delcher—­” a look of horror grew big in her eyes—­“You don’t mean to say he’s gone and joined the Universalists?”

The old man shook his head.

“And he ain’t a Unitarian?”

“No, Clytie; but our boy has been to college and it has left him rather un—­unconforming in some little matters—­some details—­doubtless his doctrine is sound at core.”

“But I supposed he’d learn everything off at that college, only I know he never got fed half enough.  What with all its studies and football and clubs and things I thought it was as good as a liberal education.”

“Too liberal, sometimes!  Pray for Bernal—­and we won’t talk about it again, Clytie, if you please.”

Presently came Allan, who had heard the news.

“Bernal tells me he will not enter the ministry, sir; that he is going away.”

“We have decided that is best.”