So she could extract no more from him. He was weak in her hands, but to have said what she wished, he felt would he coarse treason to the dead, and thought, "why could she not be content?" And when she sang--but in a style Mary never sang--she indulged in high fantastic flourishes, running her hands heavily over the same keys that Mary's pretty fingers had been wont to touch so lightly. For a time Greville Hampton winced at the familiar sound of the instrument, as if a spirit was conjured up by it; but ere long he became hardened--accustomed to it. Soon her piano, almost every immediate relic of Mary, disappeared; and times there were when her successor spoke--but never in Greville's hearing--of her memory in a sneering manner, that stung the sensitive Derval, and as he grew older, maddened and infuriated him. However, he was but a child yet, and barely understood the tithe of what she said. To her he was a perpetual eyesore; and in the round of her daily life--especially in the absence of Greville--she found a hundred petty means of venting her groundless dislike upon him. "Get out of the way--leave the room, boy--go and play in the garden--you are not wanted here!" Such were hourly the greetings to the child now--no kisses, no caresses as of old. All his sweet childish impulses were crushed or checked, and thrust back upon himself, and distrust and dislike of her, the typical rather than the real stepmother (fortunately for humanity's sake), grew strong in his heart--his little yearning heart, that felt half broken at times by neglect, for he had no one now, save old Patty, to whom he could tell all the wondrous secrets, and deep, tender confidences of child-life. And even Patty he might not have long, as in Mrs. Hampton's mind she contrasted unfavourably with her own maid; she deemed her gauche, for Patty was a stout, broad, and short-necked woman, with a clumsy gait, a ruddy complexion, red sandy hair, eyes rather green than grey, and with a resolute mouth and chin that came of her Cornish blood. "Poor little Master Derval, poor darling!" said Patty once to Greville. "She has never said a kind word to him since she came to the house; and look you, sir, he would think she was mocking him if she said one now--yah!" and she ground her teeth. "Silence, Patty; I cannot permit you to speak thus of Mrs. Hampton," said he angrily. "Missus Hampton, indeed!" grumbled Patty, but under her breath, however. But one day Greville overheard a remark which gave him a pang. "Derval, where are you going, sir?" demanded Mrs. Hampton imperiously, as he was taking his little cap. "To the sea-shore," he answered shyly. "Again? You are never anywhere else, and always come back with wet and sandy shoes. What takes you there?" "I like to watch the waves come in, and listen to what they are saying."