The course of their future life was what they talked about, and Mark explained the reasons that made him hesitate to go into the Church, the course which his college successes seemed to indicate. “It seems to me imperative,” said Mark, “that I should be no burden on my mother’s slender resources. I should dearly like to be able to make a home for you both.” “But if Gilbert decides against taking orders there’s Bigglethwaite. I’m sure Aunt Elgitha would rather have you there than anyone else—better even than Gilbert, I think.” “We must not think of Bigglethwaite, Lina; might as well fix on Rosenhurst itself. Failing Gilbert, the earl has someone no doubt in view, but I believe that it will end in Gilbert’s taking orders.” “But he will never be fit,” remonstrated Eva. “That is a hard thing to say. I don’t suppose that he will find the Bar pay, but I would rather not hang about waiting for his determination. I will make up my mind before October.” “And you don’t know whether to be a clergyman, a schoolmaster, or to try for the Civil Service.” “That is exactly how matters stand, Dilecta, so you see I am more perplexed than Gilbert; his choice lies between two; I am distracted by three.” “And in all probability an accident will decide at last.” “Probably, if, indeed, there be such a thing as accident.” “My mother would like you to be a clergyman, I think.” “I think she would, and what would my sister prefer?” “I don’t know; I don’t think I very much care, for you will always be my own dear brother. Whichever will let me see most of you, I think.” “You don’t ask me which I prefer,” pouted Elgitha, coming up behind. “I didn’t know you were listening, goosie,” said Mark, drawing her arm through his, “But, come now, favour us with your opinion.” “Well, Mark, my honest and true opinion is that you, if you don’t get away from stupid old Rosenhurst as soon as ever you can, you will be a goose of the first feather.” “And wherefore, O most profound Sybilla?” “Because there is nothing on earth to do; one day is just exactly like another, and as to being a parson, it just takes an angel like father to put up with it.” “You naughty girl; what do you mean?” “Why, isn’t he at everybody’s beck and call from Sunday morning to Saturday night? If Farmer Baynes quarrels with his son, father has to hear both sides, and to try and make them hear reason; if Widow Marvel’s ten babies are down with typhoid fever, because she will not keep the place decently clean, he has to supplement the work of the doctor, and go in and out of the filthy hole as if he liked it. Nobody is in any trouble, no one does any sin, but it all comes back upon father. Don’t you know that that’s what makes him look so white—that and Gilbert together?”