;
his eyes were still good, and there was a little matter of some twenty
years' suffering of his own on account of a woman--ancient history
now--which had left him quaintly sensitive, for an old man, to signs of
suffering in others.

Miltoun would not have obeyed that invitation from anyone else, but
there was something about Lord Dennis which people did not resist; his
power lay in a dry ironic suavity which could not but persuade people
that impoliteness was altogether too new and raw a thing to be indulged
in.

The two sat side by side on the roots of trees. At first they talked
a little of birds, and then were dumb, so dumb that the invisible
creatures of the woods consulted together audibly. Lord Dennis broke
that silence.

"This place," he said, "always reminds me of Mark Twain's
writings--can't tell why, unless it's the ever-greenness. I like the
evergreen philosophers, Twain and Meredith. There's no salvation except
through courage, though I never could stomach the 'strong man'--captain
of his soul, Henley and Nietzsche and that sort--goes against the grain
with me. What do you say, Eustace?"

"They meant well," answered Miltoun, "but they protested too much."

Lord Dennis moved his head in assent.

"To be captain of your soul!" continued Miltoun in a bitter voice; "it's
a pretty phrase!"

"Pretty enough," murmured Lord Dennis.

Miltoun looked at him.

"And suitable to you," he said.

"No, my dear," Lord Dennis answered dryly, "a long way off that, thank
God!"

His eyes were fixed intently on the place where a large trout had
risen in the stillest toffee-coloured pool. He knew that fellow, a
half-pounder at least, and his thoughts began flighting round the top
of his head, hovering over the various merits of the flies. His fingers
itched too, but he made no movement, and the ash-tree under which he sat
let its leaves tremble, as though in sympathy.

"See that hawk?" said Miltoun.

At a height more than level with the tops of the hills a buzzard hawk
was stationary in the blue directly over them. Inspired by curiosity at
their stillness, he was looking down to see whether they were edible;
the upcurved ends of his great wings flirted just once to show that he
was part of the living glory of the air--a symbol of freedom to men and
fishes.

Lord Dennis looked at his great-nephew. The boy--for what else was
thirty to seventy-six?--was taking it hard, whatever it might be, taking
it very hard! He