apply for letters of administration.  The estate, it might be said, consisted of certain shares in a prosperous newspaper, an investment which could be easily realised, and of a small capital in consols; to the best of the speaker’s judgment, the shares were worth about six thousand pounds, the consols amounted to nearly fifteen hundred.  This capital sum, the widow and the sons would divide in legal proportion.  Followed technicalities, with conversation.  Mrs. Otway kept dignified silence; Piers, in the background, sat with eyes sunk.

“I think,” remarked the solicitor gravely and firmly, “that, assembled as we are in privacy, I am only doing my duty in making known that the deceased had in view (as I know from hints in his correspondence) to assist his youngest son substantially, as soon as that son appeared likely to benefit by such pecuniary aid.  I think I am justified in saying that that time had arrived, that death interposed at an unfortunate moment as regards such plans.  I wished only to put the point before you, as one within my own knowledge.  Is there any question you would like to ask me at present, Mrs. Otway?”

The widow shook her head (and her funeral trappings).  Thereupon sounded Piers Otway’s voice.

“I should like to say that as I have no legal claim whatever upon my father’s estate, I do not wish to put forward a claim of any other kind.  Let that be understood at once.”

There was silence.  They heard the waters of the beck rushing over its stony channel.  For how many thousand years had the beck so murmured?  For how many thousand would it murmur still?

“As the eldest son,” then observed Daniel, with his Oxford accent, and a sub-note of feeling, “I desire to say that my brother”—­he generously emphasised the word—­“has expressed himself very well, in the spirit of a gentleman.  Perhaps I had better say no more at this moment.  We shall have other opportunities of—­of considering this point.”

“Decidedly,” remarked Alexander, who sat with legs crossed.  “We’ll talk it over.”

And he nodded with a good-natured smile in Piers’ direction.

Later in the day—­a family council having been held at which Piers was not present—­Daniel led the young man apart.

“You insist on leaving Hawes to-night?  Well, perhaps it is best.  But, my dear boy, I can’t let you go without saying how deeply I sympathise with your position.  You bear it like a man, Piers; indeed you do.  I think I have mentioned to you before how strong I am on the side of morals.”

“If you please,” Piers interrupted, with brow dark.

“No, no, no!” exclaimed the other.  “I was far from casting any reflection. De mortuis, you know; much more so when one speaks of a father.  I think, by the bye, Alec ought to write something about him for publication; don’t you?  I was going to say, Piers, that, if I remember rightly, I am in your debt for a small sum, which you very generously lent me.  Ah, that book!  It grows and grows; I can’t get it into final form.  The fact is Continental art critics —­But I was going to say that I must really insist on being allowed to pay my debt—­indeed I must—­soon as this business is settled.”