The sense of that necessity--and the
sight of those poor girls at the time when I felt my hard duty toward
them most painfully--shook me, as a man of my years and my way of life
is not often shaken by any distress in the present or any suspense in
the future. I have not recovered it this morning: I hardly feel sure of
myself yet."
"A man's composure--when he is a man like you--comes with the necessity
for it," said Mr. Clare. "You must have had duties to perform as trying
in their way as the duty that lies before you this morning."
Mr. Pendril shook his head. "Many duties as serious; many stories more
romantic. No duty so trying, no story so hopeless, as this."
With those words they parted. Mr. Pendril left the garden for the
shrubbery path which led to Combe-Raven. Mr. Clare returned to the
cottage.
On reaching the passage, he looked through the open door of his little
parlor and saw Frank sitting there in idle wretchedness, with his head
resting wearily on his hand.
"I have had an answer from your employers in London," said Mr. Clare.
"In consideration of what has happened, they will allow the offer they
made you to stand over for another month.
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