these lines were frequently in his mind, and helped to shape his
enthusiasm. Consciously he subdued a great part of himself, binding
his daily life in asceticism. He would not live in London because he
dreaded its temptations. Gladly he adhered to his father's
principles in the matter of food and drink; this helped him to
subdue his body, or at least he thought so. He was happiest when,
throwing himself into bed after some fourteen hours of hard reading,
he felt the stupor of utter weariness creep upon him, with certainty
of oblivion until the next sunrise.

He did not much reflect upon the course of his life hitherto, with
its false starts, its wavering; he had not experience enough to
understand their significance. Of course his father was mainly
responsible for what had so far happened. Jerome Otway, whilst
deciding that this youngest son of his should be set in the sober
way of commerce, to advance himself, if fate pleased, through
recognised grades of social respectability, was by no means careful
to hide from the lad his own rooted contempt of such ideals. Nothing
could have been more inconsistent than the old agitator's behaviour
in attempting to discharge this practical duty. That he meant well
was all one could say of him; for it was not permissible to suppose
Jerome Otway defective in intelligence. Perhaps the outcome of
solicitude in the case of his two elder sons had so far discouraged
him, that, on the first symptoms of instability, he ceased to regard
Piers as within his influence.

Piers, this morning, had a terrible sense of loneliness, of
abandonment. The one certainty by which he had lived, his delight in
books, his resolve to become erudite, now of a sudden vanished. He