ANDR. (_standing with portmanteau_). Have you anything more to take to the boat, Father? FATHER H. No, that's all, Andrew. ANDR. Then I'll take it down and wait for you there. (_Exit ANDREW with portmanteau._) FATHER H. Then this is good-bye, Michael? MICH. Unless you'll stay over the Sunday at Cleveheddon? FATHER H. No, I've done my work in England, and I must be back among my people. I wanted to see the shrines on these two sister islands again before I died. I shall leave Saint Margaret's to-morrow morning, get back to Cleveheddon, take the afternoon train up to London, and leave for Italy on Friday morning. You'll come and see me at Majano? MICH. When I can. FATHER H. This winter? MICH. No, not this winter. I shall be at work at once on the restorations now I've got all the money. FATHER H. Strange that it should all come so soon within two or three months. MICH. Yes, and from such different quarters of England--a thousand one day from Manchester--five hundred the next from some unheard-of village--and then the last great final gift last week. FATHER H. It looks as if it all came from one giver? MICH. Yes, I had thought that. FATHER H. You don't know of any one? MICH. I've one or two suspicions. However, the great fact is that I have it all, and can set my architects to work. FATHER H. Michael--I was asking Andrew just now, there is something troubling you? MICH. No--no. What makes you think that? FATHER H. You are not yourself. (_Pause._) Is it anything where I can be of help? MICH. There is nothing. (_Pause._) There has been something. But it is past. (_FATHER HILARY looks grave._) You need have no fear for me. (_Holding out hand._) FATHER H. (_takes his hand, holds it for a long while, looks gravely at him_). If you should ever need a deeper peace than you can find within or around you, come to me in Italy. MICH. But I am at peace now. (_Restlessly, pushing his hand through hair, then a little querulously._) I am at peace now. (_FATHER HILARY shakes his head._) You think you can give me that deeper peace? FATHER H. I know I can. MICH. I may come to you some day. (_WITHYCOMBE puts his head in at door._) WITHY. Now, sir, if yu plaise, we'me losing the tide--us shan't get to Margaret's avore supper-time. FATHER H. I'm coming, Withycombe. MICH. Withycombe, you'll come and fetch me on Saturday morning. WITHY. Saturday morning, twelve o'clock sharp, I'm here. Right you are, Mr. Feversham. Well and good. (_Exit._) FATHER H. Good-bye. MICH. Good-bye, Uncle Ned. (_Very hearty hand-shake. Exit FATHER HILARY. MICHAEL goes to door, stands looking a few seconds, comes in, turns to his books._) _Re-enter FATHER HILARY._ MICH. What is it? FATHER H. I don't like leaving you. Come with me to-night to Margaret's. MICH. Shall I? Perhaps it would be best--Wait a minute. WITHY. (_voice heard of_). Now, Mr. Lashmar, if you plaise, sir--we'me losing the tide. MICH. Don't wait, I'm safe here. Good-bye.