he claimed no more than his rights.

With silent satisfaction, Jerome watched the boy's endeavours, his
heart warming when he received one of those well-worded and dutiful,
yet by no means commonplace letters, which came from Geneva and from
London. On Piers he put the hope of his latter day; and it gladdened
him to think that this, his only promising child, was the offspring of
the union which he could recall with tenderness.

When Mrs. Otway had withdrawn with her sour dignity, the old man sighed
and lost himself in melancholy musing. The house was, as usual, very
still, and from without the only sound was that of the beck, leaping
down over its stony ledges. Jerome loved this sound. It tuned his
thoughts; it saved him from many a fit of ill-humour. It harmonised
with the melody of Dante's verses, fit accompaniment to many a passage
of profound feeling, of noble imagery. Even now he had been brooding
the anguish of Maestro Adamo who hears for ever

Li ruscelletti che de' verdi colli
Del Casentin discendon giuso in Arno--"

and the music of the Tuscan fountains blended with the voice of this
moorland stream.

There was a knock at the door; the maid-servant handed him a letter; it
came from Piers. The father read it, and, after a few lines, with grave
visage. Piers began by saying that, a day or two ago, he had all but
resolved to run down to Hawes, for he had something very serious to
speak about; on the whole, it seemed better to make the communication
in writing.

"I have abandoned the examination, and all thought of the Civil
Service. If I invented reasons for this, you would not believe them,
and you would think ill of me. The best way is to tell you the plain
truth, and run the risk of being thought a simpleton, or something
worse. I have been in great trouble, have gone through a bad time. Some
weeks ago there came to stay here a girl of eighteen or nineteen, the
daughter of Dr. Lowndes Derwent (whose name perhaps you know). She is
very beautiful, and I was unlucky enough--if I ought to use such a
phrase--to fall in love with her. I won't try to explain what this
meant to me; you wouldn't have patience to read it; but it stopped my
studies, utterly overthrew my work. I was all but ill; I suffered
horribly. It was my first such experience; I hope it may be the
last--in that form. Indeed, I believe it will, for I can't imagine that
I shall ever feel towards anyone else in the same way, and--you will