Even already, in the midst of the son’s staunchness to first ties, the father recognised with a curious mixture of fatherly pride and sharp twinges of pain, in spite of his fatherly unselfishness, the certain consequences of Oliver’s withdrawal from handicraft or trade and absorption in the pursuit of learning, and in the companionship of the class with regard to which Peter, in spite of his sagacity, fully believed the pursuit of learning was the regular business of the members’ lives, unless when they took a little bodily recreation in the form of cricket, or boating, or sport. Oliver might be as humble and hearty as he liked, but he was growing in the very tone of his voice, and carriage of his head, and movement of his hand, more and more of a gentleman, like the Squire and his friends. The boy could not help himself; it was to his credit that he should, like good wood, take on polish so rapidly. But though he would never turn his back on his father, the men would gradually grow strange and shy as companions to each other. All the more reason, Peter thought bravely and disinterestedly, for him to make matters as smooth and easy to Oliver when he should come after him, his father, as the old miller could contrive. There were certain things which he, Peter, could still do better than his clever, cultivated son, and it was some indemnification to Peter for his own loss to do them for Oliver. Peter sold advantageously the leases of the mills he had taken on in addition to Friarton, and laid up the purchase-money in the funds, where it would be no trouble, but a decided boon, to a gentleman and scholar, as well as to Fan. Peter was on terms for the sale of the baking business, but he could not find it in his heart to dispose of Friarton Mill, though he knew he should always find a ready buyer in the squire of Copley Grange, who would willingly suffer Peter to stay on as tenant in the place for the rest of his life. But the miller fancied Oliver might care to retain the mill, letting it to a tenant who should reserve quarters for the landlord if ever he liked to revisit the mill-house. Death stepped in and settled all the arrangements before Peter had come to an end of his plans for his son’s greater ease and well-being. The miller died peacefully with Oliver sharing Fan’s watch by their father’s pillow, raising, for an interval of relief on the broad young breast, the bowed shoulders on which the young man, as a child, had so often ridden triumphantly, and receiving reverently and tenderly the last fluttering sigh.