“All I can do is to refuse you money unless you do what I think fit.”

“Well, I don’t care, I’ve made up my mind to go to Paris.  I shall sell my clothes, and my books, and my father’s jewellery.”

Aunt Louisa sat by in silence, anxious and unhappy.  She saw that Philip was beside himself, and anything she said then would but increase his anger.  Finally the Vicar announced that he wished to hear nothing more about it and with dignity left the room.  For the next three days neither Philip nor he spoke to one another.  Philip wrote to Hayward for information about Paris, and made up his mind to set out as soon as he got a reply.  Mrs. Carey turned the matter over in her mind incessantly; she felt that Philip included her in the hatred he bore her husband, and the thought tortured her.  She loved him with all her heart.  At length she spoke to him; she listened attentively while he poured out all his disillusionment of London and his eager ambition for the future.

“I may be no good, but at least let me have a try.  I can’t be a worse failure than I was in that beastly office.  And I feel that I can paint.  I know I’ve got it in me.”

She was not so sure as her husband that they did right in thwarting so strong an inclination.  She had read of great painters whose parents had opposed their wish to study, the event had shown with what folly; and after all it was just as possible for a painter to lead a virtuous life to the glory of God as for a chartered accountant.

“I’m so afraid of your going to Paris,” she said piteously.  “It wouldn’t be so bad if you studied in London.”

“If I’m going in for painting I must do it thoroughly, and it’s only in Paris that you can get the real thing.”

At his suggestion Mrs. Carey wrote to the solicitor, saying that Philip was discontented with his work in London, and asking what he thought of a change.  Mr. Nixon answered as follows: 

Dear Mrs. Carey,

I have seen Mr. Herbert Carter, and I am afraid I must tell you that Philip has not done so well as one could have wished.  If he is very strongly set against the work, perhaps it is better that he should take the opportunity there is now to break his articles.  I am naturally very disappointed, but as you know you can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make him drink. 
Yours very sincerely,
Albert Nixon.

The letter was shown to the Vicar, but served only to increase his obstinacy.  He was willing enough that Philip should take up some other profession, he suggested his father’s calling, medicine, but nothing would induce him to pay an allowance if Philip went to Paris.

“It’s a mere excuse for self-indulgence and sensuality,” he said.

“I’m interested to hear you blame self-indulgence in others,” retorted Philip acidly.

But by this time an answer had come from Hayward, giving the name of a hotel where Philip could get a room for thirty francs a month and enclosing a note of introduction to the massiere of a school.  Philip read the letter to Mrs. Carey and told her he proposed to start on the first of September.