"In heaven's name, what for, sir ?" "I have often told you that some day I would wish you to go to Australia, Cardo.

If you cannot afford your own expenses, I will help you In fact--er--er--I will place funds at your disposal which shall enable you to travel like a gentleman, and to reap every advantage which is supposed to accrue from travel and seeing the world." Cardo way speechless from astonishment, not so much at the idea of banishment to the Antipodes--for his father had sometimes, though at long intervals, hinted at this idea--but at the unusual coolness with which he had alluded to such a lavish expenditure of money; and as he looked at his father with an earnest, inquiring gaze, the old man seemed to shrink under the scrutiny.
At last, turning away from the table, and placing both hands on his knees, he continued in an altered tone: "Sit down again, Cardo, and I will tell you the story of my life, and then you shall tell me whether you will go to Australia or not." His son sat down again and listened eagerly.

He had always longed to hear something of his father's early life; he had always rebelled against the cold barrier of mystery which seemed to enshroud him and separate him from his only son.
"Well, to begin at the beginning," said the Vicar, fixing his eyes on one spot on the carpet, "there was a time when I was young--perhaps you can hardly realise that," he said suddenly, looking up; "but strange as it may seem to you, it is a fact.

I once was young, and though never so gay and light-hearted as you still I was happy in my own way, and fool enough to expect that life had for me a store of joys and pleasures, just as you do now.

I was doomed, of course, to bitter disappointment, just as you will be.