ly quarrel. Your letter only
reached me to-day having been forwarded to my place in the country
from my office. I should have at once come to town, but
unfortunately I am laid up with an attack of gout which makes it
impossible for me to stir. Therefore, the only thing I can do is
to write to my son hoping that the letter which I send by a
special messenger will reach him in time and avail to alter his
determination to undertake this journey. Here I may add that
although I have differed and do differ from him on various points,
I still have a deep affection for my son and earnestly desire his
welfare. The prospect of any harm coming to him is one upon which
I cannot bear to dwell.

"Now I am aware that any change of his plans at this eleventh hour
would involve you in serious loss and inconvenience. I beg to
inform you formally, therefore, that in this event I will make
good everything and will in addition write off the L2,000 which I
understand he has invested in your joint venture. It may be,
however, that my son, who has in him a vein of my own obstinacy,
will refuse to change his mind. In that event, under a Higher
Power I can only commend him to your care and beg that you will
look after him as though he were your own child. I can ask and you
can do no more. Tell him to write me as opportunity offers, as
perhaps you will too; also that, although I hate the sight of
them, I will look after the flowers which he has left at the house
at Twickenham.--

"Your obliged servant, ALEXANDER SOMERS."

This letter touched me much, and indeed made me feel very uncomfortable.
Without a word I handed it to my companion, who read it through
carefully.

"Nice of him about the orchids," he said. "My dad has a good heart,
although he lets his temper get the better of him, having had his own
way all his life."

"Well, what will you do?" I asked.

"Go on, of course. I've put my hand to the plough and I am not going
to turn back. I should be a cur if I did, and what's more, whatever
he might say he'd think none the better of me. So please don't try to
persuade me, it would be no good."

For quite a while afterwards young Somers seemed to be comparatively
depressed, a state of mind that in his case was rare indeed. At last,
he studied the wintry landscape through the carriage window and
said nothing. By degrees, however, he recovered, and when we reached