And Sir Giles did not push away his son’s hand, which was what might have happened also. The old gentleman was in precisely the state of mind to feel that touch and the sound of the wavering voice. It was a return of the prodigal when the poor old father’s heart was very forlorn, and the sensation of having some one still who belonged to him most welcome. To be sure there was Colonel Piercey--but he would go away, and was not in any sense a son of the house. And Meg--but she was a dependant, perhaps pleased to think she would have nobody over her now. Gervase was his father’s own, come back; equally feeble, not shaming his father by undue self-control. To hear his boy sob was sweet to the old man; it did him more good than Dunning’s whispered adjurations not to fret, to “think of your own ’ealth,” to “’old up, Sir Giles!” When he felt the hand of Gervase and heard his helpless son sob, a flash of force came to the old man. “It’s you and me now, Gervase, only you and me, my boy,” he said loud out, interrupting the voice of the rector. It was a dreadful thing to do, and yet it had a great effect, the voice of nature breaking in, into the midst of all that ceremony and solemnity. Old Sir Giles’ bare, bowed head, and the exclamation loud, broken with a sob, which everybody could hear, moved many people to tears. Even the rector paused a moment before he pronounced the final benediction, and the mourners began to disperse and turn away. One other moment of intense anxiety followed for Patty. She had to keep her Softy up to the mark. All had gone well so far, but to keep him in the same humour for a long time together was well nigh an impossible achievement. When Sir Giles’ chair was turned round, Patty almost pushed it herself in her anxiety to keep close, and it was no small exertion to keep Gervase steadily behind, yet not to hustle Dunning, who looked round at her fiercely. If there should happen to come into the Softy’s mind the idea of rushing off with his father, which was his usual idea when he stood behind Sir Giles’ chair! But some benevolent influence watched over Patty on that critical day. Gervase, occupied in watching the equipages, of which no man had ever seen so many at Greyshott, walked on quietly to the carriage door. He got in after Sir Giles as if that were quite natural, forgetting the “manners” she had tried to teach him; but Patty minded nothing at that moment of fate. She scrambled in after him, her heart beating wildly, and no one venturing to oppose. Dunning, indeed, who followed, looked unutterable things. He said: “Sir Giles, is it your meaning as this--this lady----?”