fore he answered, turned away. 'Come round to _you_.' But
he had said enough to indicate--and, as he evidently trusted, to
avert--the horrid contingency.

IV

Within six months again, none the less, his fear was on more occasions
than one all before him. Lance had returned to Paris for another
trial; then had reappeared at home and had had, with his father, for
the first time in his life, one of the scenes that strike sparks. He
described it with much expression to Peter, touching whom (since they
had never done so before) it was the sign of a new reserve on the part
of the pair at Carrara Lodge that they at present failed, on a matter
of intimate interest, to open themselves--if not in joy then in
sorrow--to their good friend. This produced perhaps practically
between the parties a shade of alienation and a slight intermission
of commerce--marked mainly indeed by the fact that to talk at his ease
with his old playmate Lance had in general to come to see him. The
closest if not quite the gayest relation they had yet known together
was thus ushered in. The difficulty for poor Lance was a tension at
home--begotten by the fact that his father wished him to be at
least the sort of success he himself had been. He hadn't 'chucked'
Paris--though nothing appeared more vivid to him than that Paris had
chucked him: he would go back again because of the fascination in
trying, in seeing, in sounding the depths--in learning one's lesson,
briefly, even if the lesson were simply that of one's impotence in the
presence of one's larger vision. But what did the Master, all aloft
in his senseless fluency, know of impotence, and what vision--to be
called such--had he in all his blind life ever had? Lance, heated and
indignant, frankly appealed to his godparent on this score.

His father, it appeared, had come down on him for having, after
so long, nothing to show, and hoped that on his next return this
deficiency would be repaired. _The_ thing, the Master complacently set
forth was--for any artist, however inferior to himself--at least
to 'do' something. 'What can you do? That's all I ask!' _He_ had
certainly done enough, and there was no mistake about what he had to
show. Lance had tears in his eyes when it came thus to letting his old
friend know how great the strain might be on the 'sacrifice' asked
of him. It wasn't so easy to continue humbugging--as from son to
parent--after feeling one's self despised for not grovelling in
me