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Hehastwosons,andnodaughter.Twosonswhom
hedoesnotmuchtrust–neitherofthemyoung–Charles
andHenry.
Bynomeansyoungarethey.Theelder,nowforty-
three,theyoungeronlyayearortwoless.Charleshas
ledawanderinglife,andtriedagoodmanythings.
Hehadbeenfondofplay,andotherexpensivefollies.
Hehadsobered,however,peoplethought,anditmight
behismission,notwithstandinghiswildandwasteful
youngdays,topayoffthedebtsoftheestate.
Henry,theyoungerson,ashrewddealerinhorses,
likedbeingkingofhiscompany,condescended
tostrongale,madelovetothebar-maidatthe
“George,”inthelittletownofWyvern,andaffectedthe
conversationofdog-fanciers,horse-jockeys,wrestlers,
andsimilarcelebrities.
TheoldSquirewasnotmuchconsidered,andless
beloved,byhissons.Thegauntoldmanwas,however,
morefearedbythesematuredscionsthantheirpride
wouldhaveeasilyallowed.Thefearsofchildhood
surviveitspleasures.Somethingoftheghostlyterrors
ofthenurseryhauntusthroughlife,andthetyrant
ofearlydaysmaintainsastrangeandunavowed
ascendancyovertheimagination,longafterhisreal
powertoinflictpainorprivationhasquitecome
toanend.
Asthistall,grim,handsomeoldmanmovesabout
theroom,ashestands,orsitsdown,orturnseastward
attheCreedinchurch–ashemarchesslowlytoppling
alongtheterrace,withhisgold-headedcaneinhis
hand,surveyingthelongfamiliarsceneswhichwill
soonbloomandbrownnomoreforhim–withsullen
eyes,thinkinghissolitarythoughts–asinthelong
summereveningshedozesinthegreatchairbythe
fire,whicheveninthedog-dayssmouldersinthe
drawing-roomgrate–lookinglikeagiganticeffigy
ofwinter–apairoflargeandsoftgrayeyesfollow,
orstealtowardshim–removedwhenobserved–butever
andanonreturning.Peoplehaveremarkedthis,and
