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thought tortured her. She loved him with all her heart. At
length she spoke to him; she listened attentively while he
poured out all his disillusionment of London and his eager
ambition for the future.
‘I may be no good, but at least let me have a try. I can’t be
a worse failure than I was in that beastly office. And I feel
that I can paint. I know I’ve got it in me.’
She was not so sure as her husband that they did right
in thwarting so strong an inclination. She had read of great
painters whose parents had opposed their wish to study, the
event had shown with what folly; and after all it was just as
possible for a painter to lead a virtuous life to the glory of
God as for a chartered accountant.
‘I’m so afraid of your going to Paris,’ she said piteously. ‘It
wouldn’t be so bad if you studied in London.’
‘If I’m going in for painting I must do it thoroughly, and
it’s only in Paris that you can get the real thing.’
At his suggestion Mrs. Carey wrote to the solicitor, say-
ing that Philip was discontented with his work in London,
and asking what he thought of a change. Mr. Nixon an-
swered as follows:
Dear Mrs. Carey,
I have seen Mr. Herbert Carter, and I am afraid I must
tell you that Philip has not done so well as one could have
wished. If he is very strongly set against the work, perhaps
it is better that he should take the opportunity there is now
to break his articles. I am naturally very disappointed, but
as you know you can take a horse to the water, but you can’t
make him drink.