He thought much, too, about his offspring. The two children of his
first marriage he had educated on the approved English model, making
them "gentlemen." Partly because he knew not well how else to train
them, for Jerome was far too weak on the practical side to have
shaped a working system of his own--a system he durst rely upon;
and partly, too, because they seemed to him to inherit many
characteristics from their mother, and so to be naturally fitted for
some conventional upper-class career. The result was grievous
failure. In the case of Piers, he decided to disregard the boy's
seeming qualifications, and, after having him schooled abroad for
the sake of modern languages, to put him early into commerce. If
Piers were marked out for better things, this discipline could do
him no harm. And to all appearances, the course had been a wise one.
Piers had as yet given no cause for complaint. In wearying of trade,
in aiming at something more liberal, 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 Otway had withdrawn with her sour dignity, the old man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.