"Sometimes I shut my eyes and see the little valley running down to the sea. Tell me how the mine is going, and if Miss Muir is still planning a house for you. And are you living in lodgings or still at the Rectory? "This is from the Bubble who is beginning to soar once more." Thorold's answer was as follows: "MY DEAR LITTLE FLEDGED MUSICIAN,— "Why should I try to cut your wings? And stamp upon your talent which is now seeing the light of London Town? I don't like the life for you, and rather agree with poor unfortunate Jim. It is too hard work for one of your calibre. The late hours, the strain, and rush, and artificial atmosphere will all tell on your nervous system, but this, I am sure, you will have to find out for yourself. The week or two you are experiencing now will be very different from the perpetual grind of a professional accompanist. And if you should develop into a professional soloist, it will be harder work still. "I have nothing to say, except that if you get tired or disillusioned, send for me. I am at the end of a wire. And we'll fix up something else. Never be afraid of owning up to mistakes. Such a lot of trouble comes from false pride. What can I tell you about myself? I am in diggings at a farm near the mine, and I eat a lot of Cornish cream, and enjoy Cornish pasties and Saffron buns. We're very pleased with the mine—we've opened up a vein of tin, and now the work is going fast! I feel sorry that your time at the Mount is over. What will Miss Anne do without you? Vienna is not an attractive town to me. I knew it in my young days before my father died. To spend one of summer's best months there is pitiful. But the music, of course, is enchanting. Only—only—child—don't let the musical world swamp and drown your soul. "Yours when you want me, "THOROLD." Gentian tucked this letter inside her frock after kissing the signature. "Yours when you want me," she murmured to herself; "how I wish I could make that into a proposal! Oh, Cousin Thor, I'll send for you, I know I shall, but not yet! Things are going too well, and I'm enjoying myself. And my musical soul is being fed and satisfied." CHAPTER XIV "I WANT YOU" TO say that both Mrs. Wharnecliffe and Thorold were very uneasy about their young protégé would be to state it very mildly. If Mrs. Wharnecliffe had not had her husband in bed with one of his bad attacks of gout, she would have gone up to town herself and taken Gentian under her motherly wing. She knew Mrs. St. Lucas, and was well aware of her happy-go-lucky Bohemian propensities. As to Thorold, he thought about Gentian night and day; he longed to cast prudence and diffidence to the winds, and go up to London and fetch her down to Cornwall, where she could once more be under his protecting care. But when he had written to her, he waited patiently, dreading, yet sometimes almost longing, to receive a summons from her.