“Distrust of myself as well as of the young ones, and trying not to forget that ‘one good custom may corrupt the world,’ so it may be as well that the pendulum should swing.” “The pendulum, but not its axis--faith!” “No; and of my boy’s mainspring of faith I _do_ feel sure, and of his real upright steadiness.” Lady Merrifield asked no more, but could wait. But is not each generation a terra incognita to the last? A question which those feel most decidedly who stand on the border-land of both, with love and sympathy divided between the old and the new, clinging to the one, and fearing to alienate the other. CHAPTER XIV. -- BUTTERFLY’S NECTAR If you heed my warning It will save you much.--A. A. PROCTOR. Clement Underwood was so much better as to be arrived at taking solitary rides and walks, these suiting him better than having companions, as he liked to go his own pace, and preferred silence. His sister had become much engrossed with her painting, and saw likewise that in this matter of exercise it was better to let him go his own way, and he declared that this time of thought and reading was an immense help to him, restoring that balance of life which he seemed to himself to have lost in the whirl of duties at St. Matthew’s after Felix’s death. The shore, with the fresh, monotonous plash of the waves, when the tide served, was his favourite resort. He could stand still and look out over the expanse of ripples, or wander on, as he pleased, watching the sea-gulls float along-- “As though life’s only call and care Were graceful motion.” There had been a somewhat noisy luncheon, for Edward Harewood, a midshipman in the Channel Fleet, which was hovering in the offing, had come over on a day’s leave with Horner, a messmate whose parents lived in the town. He was a big lad, a year older than Gerald, and as soon as a little awe of Uncle Clement and Aunt Cherry had worn off, he showed himself of the original Harewood type, directing himself chiefly to what he meant to be teasing Gerald about Vale Leston and Penbeacon. “All the grouse there were on the bit of moor are snapped up.” “Very likely,” said Gerald coolly. “Those precious surveyors and engineers that Walsh brings down can give an account of them! As soon as you come of age, you’ll have to double your staff of keepers, I can tell you.” “Guardians of ferae naturae,” said Gerald. “I thought your father did all that was required in that line,” said Clement. “Not since duffers and land-lubbers have been marauding over Penbeacon--aye, and elsewhere. What would you say to an engineer poaching away one of the august house of Vanderkist?” “The awful cad! I’d soon show him what I thought of his cheek,” cried Adrian, with a flourish of his knife. “Ha, ha! I bet that he will be shooting over Ironbeam Park long before you are of age.” “I shall shoot him, then,” cried Adrian.