But for all this the soul was still partially alive in this man. He could still suffer, and that is a sign of vitality, and if he had a genuine sentiment left it was for his son. His suffering indeed was of a purely egotistical sort. The vast failure he had made of life struck a sort of cold despair through him; Phil must make restitution for his failures; and now the coldest thought of all assailed him: he had not Phil’s heart. He had lavished kindness on the boy all his life, yet sometimes Phil would look at him in his curiously expressive fashion and turn away quickly as if to hide the thought that leapt out from his speaking eyes: ‘I know you, I understand you.’ But whether Phil loved him or not, thought he, he could not afford to quarrel with him after this fashion. Everything else in life had failed; Phil at least he must keep! Meadowes rose hurriedly and went in search of Phil, who had gone out, it appeared, across the Park. The sun had come out now, after the rain, and its warmth drew up the smell of the mould from the streaming moisture-laden earth. ‘Earth, where I shall soon lie,’ thought Meadowes; ‘earth, that will absorb me into its elements again. Then the great failure will be at an end, the puzzle solved—no, not solved, only concluded: solved would mean another life, and that would mean—— Ah! the opened Books, and the Face from which earth and heaven flee away, and the Voice crying: “_Give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer steward._” Tush, why does that old nonsense so ring in the brain?’ ‘Phil, Phil,’ he shouted; he could stand his own thoughts no longer. It is always a difficult matter to retract one’s words. But it was a characteristic of Richard Meadowes that he could generally extricate himself from any difficult situation with grace and composure. It was, he admitted, quite unsuitable that, after having fairly warned Phil of the results of his disobedience, he should now retract all he had just said; but it must be done. Phil must stay with him at any cost. So, putting the best face he could to it, he called and called again for Philip, who at last appeared: he had quite expected the summons. ‘I suppose he desires to forget all that has just passed,’ thought Phil, well aware of the sway he held over his father’s affections. ‘I think you called me, sir?’ he said. He wore a very demure aspect. ‘Yes; I wished to explain this matter further, Phil: ’twas perhaps scarcely fair in me not to give you a reason for my displeasure. Let us walk on and I shall tell you all.’