Sorry to send you off, but I'm sure Mr.
Storm will excuse you. Good-bye for the present."

Felicity went out as John Storm came in. He looked excited, and there was
an expression of pain in his face.

"I am sorry to disturb you, but I need not detain you long," he said.

"Sit down, Mr. Storm, sit down," said the canon, returning to the sofa.

But John did not sit. He stood by the chair vacated by Felicity, and kept
beating his hat on the back of it.

"I have come to tell you, sir, that I wish to resign my curacy."

The canon glanced up with a stealthy expression, and thought: "How clever
of him! To resign before he is told plainly that he has to go--that is
very clever."

Then he said aloud: "I am sorry, very sorry. I'm always sorry to part
with my clergy. Still--you see I am entirely frank with you--I have
observed that you have not been comfortable of late, and I think you are
acting for the best. When do you wish to leave me?"

"As soon as convenient--as early as I can be spared."

The canon smiled condescendingly. "That need not trouble you at all. With
a staff like mine, you see---- Of course, you are aware that I am entitled
to three months' notice?"

"Yes."

"But I will waive it; I will not detain you. Have you seen your uncle on
the subject?"

"No."

"When you do so please say that I always try to remove impediments from a
young man's path if he is uncomfortable--in the wrong place, for
example."

"Thank you," said John Storm, and then he hesitated a moment before
stepping to the door.

The canon rose and bowed affably. "Not an angry word," he thought. "Who
shall say that blood does not count for something?"

"Believe me, my dear Storm," he said aloud, "I shall always remember with
pride and pleasure our early connection. Perhaps I think you are acting
unwisely, even foolishly, but it will continue to be a source of
satisfaction to me that I was able to give you your first opportunity,
and if your next curacy should chance to be in London, I trust you will
allow us to maintain the acquaintance."

John Storm's face was twitching and his pulses were beating violently,
but he was trying to control himself.

"Thank you," he said; "but it is not very likely----"

"Don't say you are giving up Orders, dear Mr. Storm, or perhaps that you
are only leaving our church in order to unite yourself to another. Ah!
have I touched on a tender point? You must not be surprised that rumours
have been rife.