"I am going away," repeats Armstrong to his wife, "at once, on business. I must leave in ten minutes. I am going up to town first, then on to Dublin and Cork."
"Ten days--a fortnight at the longest. I have brought over Bob to stay with you during my absence, and have given him all directions which I have not had time to give you. I hope he'll take good care of you."
"I'm sure he will enjoy the change and the responsibility; and I'll see that he leaves in time for business every morning," says Addie mechanically.
"Oh, that is not necessary! He need not go to Kelvick. The fact is--I meant to have told you before, but other things put it out of my head--Robert is no longer in the office--has resigned his appointment, in fact," announces Armstrong.
"You could not keep him? I'm not surprised."
"No; it was his own wish to leave. He was totally unsuited to the work."
"Soldiering? You mean he is going to--enlist!"
"Dear me, no, child! What an idea! He means to start with his commission, of course."
"But that is absurd! He has nothing; it is impossible for him to live in the army without money. I--I know--a cousin of mine who has three hundred a year besides his pay, and he is always in debt. It is absurd! I wonder at you, Tom, to encourage him in such an idea!" Her eyes flash on him defiantly.
"He is fit for nothing else, and it has been the dream of the boy's life. I think he will do well in the army; and he is not in the least extravagant. You must admit that, Addie."
She sighs wearily. Suddenly her face clears.
"He'll never get in; he won't have a chance. The examination is competitive, and getting worse and worse every year. The Hawksby and the Wilmott boys have been plucked twice, and have given it up as a bad job. Robert will never pass!"
"He is not going up for the direct Sandhurst exam. He has applied for a commission in the county militia, and, after serving two trainings, he can enter the cavalry with a merely nominal exam., I believe."
She is silent for a moment; a few hot tears steal down her face, her hands drop to her sides with a gesture of tired bitterness.
"So--so he will be a pensioner on you all his life," she says slowly; "he will eat the bread of dependence until he dies. And I can do nothing--nothing; my hands are tied--tied"--twisting her wedding-ring feverishly round and round, as if she would fain wrench it off.