However，heturnedresolutelyawayfromthesubjectIhadintroducedandbegantodiscusstitlesforhisnovel。
"It’simpossibletofindanythingnew，"hesaid，"absolutelyimpossible。IdeclareIshalltaketonumbers。"
Ilaughedatthisprosaicnotion，andwewerestilldiscussingthetitlewhenwereachedhome。
"Don’tsayanythingaboutitatlunch，"hesaidasweentered。"Myfatherdetestsmywriting。"
Inoddedassentandopenedthesitting—roomdoor——astrongsmellofbrandyinstantlybecameapparent；theMajorsatinthegreenvelvetchair，whichhadbeenwheeledclosetothehearth。Hewasdrunk。
Derrickgaveanejaculationofutterhopelessness。
"ThiswillundoallthegoodofBenRhydding!"hesaid。"Howonearthhashemanagedtogetit？"
TheMajor，however，wasnotsofargoneashelooked；hecaughtuptheremarkandturnedtowardsuswithahideouslaugh。
"Ah，yes，"hesaid，"that’sthequestion。Buttheoldmanhasstillsomebrains，yousee。I’llbeevenwithyouyet，Derrick。Youneedn’tthinkyou’retohaveitallyourownway。It’smyturnnow。
You’vedeprivedmeallthistimeoftheonlythingIcareforinlife，andnowIturnthetablesonyou。Titfortat。Oh!yes，I’veturnedyourd——dscribblingstoausefulpurpose，soyouneedn’tcomplain!"
AllthishadbeenshoutedoutatthetopofhisvoiceandfreelyinterlardedwithexpressionswhichIwillnotrepeat；attheendhebrokeagainintoalaugh，andwithalook，halfidiotic，halfdevilish，pointedtowardsthegrate。
"GoodHeavens!"Isaid，"whathaveyoudone？"
BythesideofthechairIsawapieceofbrownpaper，and，catchingitup，readtheaddress——"Messrs。Davison，PaternosterRow"；inthefireplacewasahugecharredmass。Derrickcaughthisbreath；hestoopeddownandsnatchedfromthefenderafragmentofpaperslightlyburned，butstillnotcharredbeyondrecognitionliketherest。Thewritingwasquitelegible——itwashisownwriting——thedescriptionoftheRoyalists’attackandPaulWharncliffe’sdefenceofthebridge。Ilookedfromthehalf—burntscrapofpapertothesidetablewhere，onlythepreviousnight，wehadplacedthenovel，andthen，realisingasfarasanybutanauthorcouldrealisethefrightfulthingthathadhappened，IlookedinDerrick’sface。Itswhitefuryappalledme。WhathehadbornehithertofromtheMajor，Godonlyknows，butthiswasthelastdropinthecup。Dailyinsults，ceaselessprovocation，eventhehumiliationsofpersonalviolencehehadbornewithsuperhumanpatience；butthislastinjury，thiswantonlycrueloutrage，thisdeliberatedestructionofanamountofthought，andlabour，andsufferingwhichonlythewriterhimselfcouldfullyestimate——thiswasintolerable。
WhatmighthavehappenedhadtheMajorbeensoberandinthepossessionofordinaryphysicalstrengthIhardlycaretothink。Asitwas，hisweaknessprotectedhim。Derrick’swrathwasspeechless；
withonelookofloathingandcontemptatthedrunkenman，hestrodeoutoftheroom，caughtuphishat，andhurriedfromthehouse。
TheMajorsatchucklingtohimselfforaminuteortwo，butsoonhegrewdrowsy，andbeforelongwassnoringlikeagrampus。Theoldlandladybroughtinlunch，sawthestateofthingsprettyquickly，shookherheadandcommiseratedDerrick。Then，whenshehadlefttheroom，seeingnoprospectthateitherofmycompanionswouldbeinafitstateforlunch，Imadeasolitarymeal，andhadjustfinishedwhenacabstoppedatthedoorandoutsprangDerrick。I
wentintothepassagetomeethim。
"TheMajorisasleep，"Iremarked。
HetooknomorenoticethanifIhadspokenofthecat。
"I’mgoingtoLondon，"hesaid，makingforthestairs。"Canyougetyourbagready？There’satrainat2。5。"
Somehowthesuddennessandtheself—controlwithwhichhemadethisannouncementcarriedmebacktothehotelatSouthampton，where，afterlisteningtotheaccountoftheship’sdoctor，hehadannouncedhisintentionoflivingwithhisfather。Formorethantwoyearshehadbornethisawfullife；hehadlostprettynearlyallthattherewastobelostandhehadgainedtheMajor’svindictivehatred。Now，halfmaddenedbypain，andhaving，ashethought，sohopelesslyfailed，hesawnothingforitbuttogo——andthatatonce。
Ipackedmybag，andthenwenttohelphim。Hewascrammingallhispossessionsintoportmanteauxandboxes；theHoffmanwasalreadypacked，andthewalllookedcuriouslybarewithoutit。ClearlythiswasnovisittoLondon——hewasleavingBathforgood，andwhocouldwonderatit？
"Ihavearrangedfortheattendantfromthehospitaltocomeinatnightaswellasinthemorning，"hesaid，ashelockedaportmanteauthatwasstuffedalmosttobursting。"What’sthetime？
Wemustmakehasteorweshalllosethetrain。Do，likeagoodfellow，cramthatheapofthingsintothecarpet—bagwhileIspeaktothelandlady。"
Atlastwewereoff，rattlingthroughthequietstreetsofBath，andreachingthestationbarelyintimetorushupthelongflightofstairsandspringintoanemptycarriage。NevershallIforgetthatjourney。Thetrainstoppedateverysinglestation，andsometimesinbetween；wewerefivemortalhoursontheroad，andmorethanonceIthoughtDerrickwouldhavefainted。However，hewasnotofthefaintingorder，heonlygrewmoreandmoreghastlyincolourandrigidinexpression。
Ifeltveryanxiousabouthim，fortheshockandthesuddenangerfollowingonthetroubleaboutFredaseemedtomeenoughtounhingeevenalesssensitivenature。’AtStrife’wasthenovelwhichhad，Ifirmlybelieve，kepthimalivethroughthatawfultimeatBenRhydding，andIbegantofearthattheMajor’sfitofdrunkenmalicemightprovethedestructionoftheauthoraswellasofthebook。
Everythinghad，asitwere，comeatonceonpoorDerrick；yetI
don’tknowthathefaredworsethanotherpeopleinthisrespect。
Life，unfortunately，isformostofusnowell—arrangedstorywithahappytermination；itisachequeredaffairofshadeandsun，andforonebeamoflighttherecomeveryoftenwidepatchesofshadow。
MenseemtohaveknownthissofarbackasShakespeare’stime，andtohaveobservedthatonewoetrodonanother’sheels，tohavebattlednotwithasinglewave，butwitha’seaoftroubles，’andtohaveremarkedthat’sorrowscomenotsingly，butinbattalions。’
However，owingIbelievechieflytohisownself—command，andtohisuntiringfacultyfortakinginfinitepainsoverhiswork，Derrickdidnotbreakdown，butpleasantlycheatedmyexpectations。Iwasnotcalledontonursehimthroughafever，andconsumptiondidnotmarkhimforherown。Infact，inthematterofillness，hewasalwaysamostprosaic，unromanticfellow，andneverindulgedinanyoftheeuphoniousandinterestingailments。Inallhislife，I
believe，heneverwentinforanythingbutthemumps——ofallcomplaintstheleastinteresting——and，maybe，anoccasionalheadache。
However，allthisisadigression。WeatlengthreachedLondon，andDerricktookaroomabovemine，nowandthendisturbingmewithnocturnalpacingsoverthecreakingboards，but，onthewhole，provinghimselfthebestofcompanions。
IfIwrotetillDoomsday，Icouldnevermakeyouunderstandhowtheburningofhisnovelaffectedhim——tothisdayitisasubjectI
instinctivelyavoidwithhim——thoughthere—written’AtStrife’hasbeensuchagrandsuccess。Forhedidre—writethestory，andthatatonce。Hesaidlittle；buttheverynextmorning，inoneofthewindowsofourquietsitting—room，oftenenoughlookingdespairinglyatthegreymonotonyofMontagueStreet，hebeganat’PageI，ChapterI，’andsoworkedpatientlyonformanymonthstore—makeasfarashecouldwhathisdrunkenfatherhadmaliciouslydestroyed。
BeyondtheunburntparagraphabouttheattackonMondisfield，hehadnothingexceptafewhastilyscribbledideasinhisnote—book，andofcoursetheveryelaborateandcarefulhistoricalnoteswhichhehadmadeontheCivilWarduringmanyyearsofreadingandresearch—
—forthisperiodhadalwaysbeenafavouritestudywithhim。
But，asanyauthorwillunderstand，theeffortofre—writingwasimmense，andthis，combinedwithalltheothertroubles，triedDerricktotheutmost。However，hetoiledon，andIhavealwaysthoughtthathisresolute，unyieldingconductwithregardtothatbookprovedwhatamanhewas。
ChapterVIII。
"HowoftFate’ssharpestblowshallleavetheestrong，Withsomere—risenecstacyofsong。"
F。W。H。Myers。
Astheautumnworeon，weheardnowandthenfromoldMackrillthedoctor。HisreportsoftheMajorwereprettyuniform。Derrickusedtohandthemovertomewhenhehadreadthem；but，bytacitconsent，theMajor’snamewasnevermentioned。
Meantime，besidesre—writing’AtStrife，’hewasaccumulatingmaterialforhisnextbookandworkingtoverygoodpurpose。Notaminuteofhisdaywasidle；hereadmuch，sawvariousphasesoflifehithertounknowntohim，studied，observed，gainedexperience，andcontrived，Ibelieve，tothinkverylittleandveryguardedlyofFreda。
But，onChristmasEve，Inoticedachangeinhim——andthatverynighthespoketome。Forsuchanimpressionablefellow，hehadreallyextraordinarytenacity，and，spiteofthecourseofHerbertSpencerthatIhadputhimthrough，heretainedhisunshakenfaithinmanythingswhichtomewereatthattimethemerestlegends。I
rememberverywelltheargumentsweusedtohaveonthevexedquestionof’Free—will，’andbeingmyselfmoreorlessofafatalist，itannoyedmethatInevercouldintheveryslightestdegreeshakehisconvictionsonthatpoint。Moreover，whenI
plaguedhimtoomuchwithHerbertSpencer，hehadawayofretaliating，andwouldfoistuponmehisfavouriteauthors。Hewasneveraworshipperofanyonewriter，butalwayshadatleastadozenprophetsinwhosepraisehewasenthusiastic。
Well，onthisChristmasEve，wehadbeentoseedearoldRavenscroftandhisgrand—daughter，andwewerewalkingbackthroughthequietprecinctsoftheTemple，whenhesaidabruptly：
"IhavedecidedtogobacktoBathto—morrow。"
"Haveyouhadaworseaccount？"Iasked，muchstartledatthissuddenannouncement。
"No，"hereplied，"buttheoneIhadaweekagowasfarfromgoodifyouremember，andIhaveafeelingthatIoughttobethere。"
AtthatmomentweemergedintotheconfusionofFleetStreet；butwhenwehadcrossedtheroadIbegantoremonstratewithhim，andarguedthefollyoftheideaallthewaydownChanceryLane。
However，therewasnoshakinghispurpose；Christmasanditsassociationshadmadehislifeintownnolongerpossibleforhim。
"Imustatanyratetryitagainandseehowitworks，"hesaid。
AndallIcoulddowastopersuadehimtoleavethebulkofhispossessionsinLondon，"incase，"asheremarked，"theMajorwouldnothavehim。"
SothenextdayIwaslefttomyselfagainwithnothingtoremindmeofDerrick’sstaybuthispictureswhichstillhungonthewallofoursitting—room。Imadehimpromisetowriteafull，true，andparticularaccountofhisreturn，abona—fideold—fashionedletter，notthehalf—dozenlinesofthesedegeneratedays；andaboutaweeklaterIreceivedthefollowingbudget：
"DearSydney，——IgotdowntoBathallright，and，thankstoyour’StudyofSociology，’enduredaslow，andcold，anddull，anddepressingjourneywiththethermometerdowntozero，andspiritstocorrespond，withthecountryamonotonouswhite，andtheskyamonotonousgrey，andacompanionwhosmokedthevilesttobaccoyoucanconceive。Theoldplacelooksasbeautifulasever，andtomygreatsatisfactionthehillsroundaboutaregreen。Snow，saveinpictures，isanabomination。MilsomStreetlookedasleep，andGayStreetdecidedlydreary，buttheinhabitantswererousedbymyknock，andtheoldlandladynearlyshookmyhandoff。Myfatherhasanattackofjaundiceandisinamiserablestate。HewasasleepwhenIgothere，andthegoodoldlandlady，thinkingthefrontsitting—roomwouldbefree，hadinvited’company，’i。e。，twoorthreemarrieddaughtersandtheirbelongings；oneofthechildrenbeatsMagnay’s’Carina’astobeauty——heoughttopainther。Happythought，sendhimandprettyMrs。Esperancedownhereonspec。HecanpaintthechildforthenextAcademy，andmeantimeIcouldenjoyhiscompany。Well，allthesegoodfolksbeingjustset—toatroastbeef，Inaturallywouldn’thearofdisturbingthem，andintheendwasobligedtositdowntooandeatatthathourofthedaythehugestdinneryoueversaw——anythingbutvoraciousappetitesoffendedthehostess。Magnay’sfuturemodel，forallitsangelicface，’atetorepletion，’likethefairAmericaninthestory。ThenIwentintomyfather’sroom，andshortlyafterhewokeupandaskedmetogivehimsomeFriedrichshallwater，makingnocommentatallonmyreturn，butjustbehavingasthoughIhadbeenherealltheautumn，sothatIfeltasifthewholeaffairwereadream。Exceptforthisattackofjaundice，hehasbeenmuchasusual，andwhenyounextcomedownyouwillfindussettledintoouroldgroove。ThequietofitafterLondonisextraordinary。ButIbelieveitsuitsthebook，whichgetsonprettyfast。ThisafternoonIwentupLansdowneandrightonpasttheGrandStandtoProspectStile，whichisattheedgeofahighbitoftableland，andlooksoverasplendidstretchofcountry，withtheBristolChannelandtheWelshhillsinthedistance。WhileIwastherethesunmostconsideratelysetingorgeousarray。Youneversawanythinglikeit。ItwasworththejourneyfromLondontoBath，Icanassureyou。TellMagnay，andmayitlurehimdown；alsonamethemodelaforementioned。
"HowistheoldQ。C。andhisprettygrandchild？ThatquaintoldroomoftheirsintheTemplesomehowtookmyfancy，andthechildwasdivine。Doyouremembermyshowingyou，inagloomynarrowstreethere，ajollyoldwatchmakerwhositsinhisshop—windowandisforeverbendingoversickclocksandwatches？Well，he’sstillsittingthere，asifhehadnevermovedsincewesawhimthatSaturdaymonthsago。Imeantostudyhimforaportrait；hissallow，clean—shaved，wrinkledfacehasawholestoryinit。I
believeheismarriedtoaXantippewhothrowscoldwateroverhim，bothliterallyandmetaphorically；butheisaphilosopher——I’llstakemyreputationasanobserveronthat——hejustshrugshissturdyoldshoulders，andgoesonmendingclocksandwatches。Ondarkdaysheworksbyagasjet——andthenRembrandtwouldenjoypaintinghim。Ilookathimwhenevermyworldisparticularlyawry，andfindhimhighlybeneficial。Davisonhasforwardedmeto—daytwolettersfromreadersof’Lynwood。’Thefirstisfromaniratefemalewhotakesmetotaskforthedangeroustendencyofthestory，andinsiststhatIhavedrawnimpossiblecircumstancesandimpossiblecharacters。Thesecondisfromanoldclergyman，whowritesapatheticletterofthanks，andtellsmethatitisalmostwordforwordthestoryofasonofhiswhodiedfiveyearsago。
Query：shallIsendtheiratefemaletheoldman’sletter，andsavemyselfthetroubleofwriting？ButonthewholeIthinknot；itwouldbepearlsbeforeswine。Iwillwritetohermyself。Gladtoseeyouwheneveryoucanrundown。
"Yoursever，"D。V。"
（"Neverstruckmebeforewhatpiousinitialsmineare。"）
TheveryeveningIreceivedthisletterIhappenedtobediningattheProbyn’s。Asluckwouldhaveit，prettyMissFredawasstayinginthehouse，andshefelltomyshare。Ialwayslikedher，thoughoflateIhadfeltratherangrywithherforbeingcarriedawaybythegeneralstormofadmirationandsweptbyitintoanengagementwithLawrenceVaughan。Shewasaverypleasant，naturalsortoftalker，andshealwaystreatedmeasanoldfriend。Butsheseemedtome，thatnight，alittlelesssatisfiedthanusualwithlife。
Perhapsitwasmerelytheeffectoftheblacklacedresswhichshewore，butIfanciedherpalerandthinner，andsomehowsheseemedalleyes。
"WhereisLawrencenow？"Iasked，aswewentdowntothedining—
room。
"HeisstationedatDover，"shereplied。"Hewasuphereforafewhoursyesterday；hecametosaygood—byetome，forIamgoingtoBathnextMondaywithmyfather，whohasbeenveryrheumaticlately—
—andyouknowBathiscomingintofashionagain，allthedoctorsrecommendit。"
"MajorVaughanisthere，"Isaid，"andhasfoundthewatersverygood，Ibelieve；anyday，attwelveo’clock，youmayseehimgettingoutofhischairandgoingintothePumpRoomonDerrick’sarm。I
oftenwonderwhatoutsidersthinkofthem。Itisn’toften，isit，thatoneseesasonabsolutelygivinguphislifetohisinvalidfather？"
Shelookedalittlestartled。
"IwishLawrencecouldbemorewithMajorVaughan，"shesaid；"forheishisfather’sfavourite。Youseeheissuchagoodtalker，andDerrick——well，heisabsorbedinhisbooks；andthenhehassuchextravagantnotionsaboutwar，hemustbeaveryuncongenialcompaniontothepoorMajor。"
Idevouredturbotinwrathfulsilence。Fredaglancedatme。
"Itistrue，isn’tit，thathehasquitegivenuphislifetowriting，andcaresfornothingelse？"
"Well，hehasdeliberatelysacrificedhisbestchanceofsuccessbyleavingLondonandburyinghimselfintheprovinces，"Ireplieddrily；"andastocaringfornothingbutwriting，whyhenevergetsmorethantwoorthreehoursadayforit。"AndthenIgaveheraminuteaccountofhisdailyroutine。
Shebegantolooktroubled。
"Ihavebeenmisled，"shesaid；"Ihadgainedquiteawrongimpressionofhim。"
"Veryfewpeopleknowanythingatallabouthim，"Isaidwarmly；
"youarenotaloneinthat。"
"Isupposehisnextnovelisfinishednow？"saidFreda；"hetoldmehehadonlyoneortwomorechapterstowritewhenIsawhimafewmonthsagoonhiswayfromBenRhydding。Whatishewritingnow？"
"Heiswritingthatnoveloveragain，"Ireplied。
"Overagain？Whatfearfulwasteoftime!"
"Yes，ithascosthimhundredsofhours’work；itjustshowswhatamanheis，thathehasgonethroughwithitsobravely。"
"Buthowdoyoumean？Didn’titdo？"
Rashly，perhaps，yetIthinkunavoidably，Itoldherthetruth。
"Itwasthebestthinghehadeverwritten，butunfortunatelyitwasdestroyed，burnttoacinder。Thatwasnotverypleasant，wasit，foramanwhonevermakestwocopiesofhiswork？"
"Itwasfrightful!"saidFreda，hereyesdilating。"Ineverheardawordaboutit。DoesLawrenceknow？"
"No，hedoesnot；andperhapsIoughtnottohavetoldyou，butI
wasannoyedatyoursomisunderstandingDerrick。Praynevermentiontheaffair；hewouldwishitkeptperfectlyquiet。"
"Why？"askedFreda，turninghercleareyesfulluponmine。
"Because，"Isaid，loweringmyvoice，"becausehisfatherburntit。"
Shealmostgasped。
"Deliberately？"
"Yes，deliberately，"Ireplied。"Hisillnesshasaffectedhistemper，andheissometimeshardlyresponsibleforhisactions。"
"Oh，Iknewthathewasirritableandhasty，andthatDerrickannoyedhim。Lawrencetoldmethat，longago，"saidFreda。"Butthatheshouldhavedonesuchathingasthat!Itishorrible!
PoorDerrick，howsorryIamforhim。IhopeweshallseesomethingofthematBath。DoyouknowhowtheMajoris？"
"IhadaletterabouthimfromDerrickonlythisevening，"I
replied；"ifyoucaretoseeit，Iwillshowityoulateron。"
Andby—and—by，inthedrawing—room，IputDerrick’sletterintoherhands，andexplainedtoherhowforafewmonthshehadgivenuphislifeatBath，indespair，butnowhadreturned。
"Idon’tthinkLawrencecanunderstandthestateofthings，"shesaidwistfully。"Andyethehasbeendownthere。"
Imadenoreply，andFreda，withasigh，turnedaway。
AmonthlaterIwentdowntoBathandfound，asmyfriendforetold，everythinggoingonintheoldgroove，exceptthatDerrickhimselfhadanodd，strainedlookabouthim，asifhewerefightingafoebeyondhisstrength。Freda’sarrivalatBathhadbeenveryhardonhim，itwasalmostmorethanhecouldendure。SirRichard，blindasabat，ofcourse，toanythingbelowthesurface，madeapointofseeingsomethingofLawrence’sbrother。AndonthedayofmyarrivalDerrickandIhadhardlysetoutforawalk，whenweranacrosstheoldman。
SirRichard，thoughrheumaticinthewrists，wasnimbleoffootandaninveteratewalker。HewasgoingwithhisdaughtertoseeoverBeckford’sTower，andinvitedustoaccompanyhim。Derrick，muchagainstthegrain，Ifancy，hadtotalktoFreda，who，inherwinterfursandclose—fittingvelvethat，lookedmorefascinatingthanever，whiletheoldmandescantedtomeonBathwaters，antiquities，etc。，inalong—windedwaythatlastedallupthehill。Wemadeourwayintothecemeteryandmountedthetowerstairs，thinkingofthepastwhenthisdrearyplacehadbeensogorgeouslyfurnished。HereDerrickcontrivedtogetaheadwithSirRichard，andFredalingeredinasortofalcovewithme。
"Ihavebeensowantingtoseeyou，"shesaid，inanagitatedvoice。
"Oh，Mr。Wharncliffe，isittruewhatIhaveheardabouttheMajor？
Doeshedrink？"
"Whotoldyou？"Isaid，alittleembarrassed。
"Itwasourlandlady，"saidFreda；"sheisthedaughteroftheMajor’slandlady。AndyoushouldhearwhatshesaysofDerrick!
Why，hemustbeadownrighthero!AllthetimeIhavebeenhalfdespisinghim"——shechokedbackasob——"hehasbeentryingtosavehisfatherfromwhatwascertaindeathtohim——sotheytoldme。Doyouthinkitistrue？"
"Iknowitis，"Irepliedgravely。
"Andabouthisarm——wasthattrue？"
Isignedanassent。
Hergreyeyesgrewmoist。
"Oh，"shecried，"howIhavebeendeceivedandhowlittleLawrenceappreciateshim!IthinkhemustknowthatI’vemisjudgedhim，forheseemssooddandshy，andIdon’tthinkhelikestotalktome。"
Ilookedsearchinglyintohertruthfulgreyeyes，thinkingofpoorDerrick’sunluckylove—story。
"Youdonotunderstandhim，"Isaid；"andperhapsitisbestso。"
Butthewordsandthelookwererash，forallatoncethecolourfloodedherface。Sheturnedquicklyaway，consciousatlastthatthemidsummerdreamofthoseyachtingdayshadtoDerrickbeennodreamatall，butalife—longreality。
IfeltverysorryforFreda，forshewasnotatallthesortofgirlwhowouldgloryinhavingafellowhopelesslyinlovewithher。I
knewthatthediscoveryshehadmadewouldbenothingbutasorrowtoher，andcouldguesshowshewouldreproachherselfforthatinnocentpastfancy，which，tillnow，hadseemedtohersofaintandfar—away——almostassomethingbelongingtoanotherlife。Allatonceweheardtheothersdescending，andsheturnedtomewithsuchafrightened，appealinglook，thatIcouldnotpossiblyhavehelpedgoingtotherescue。IplungedabruptlyintoadiscourseonBeckford，andtoldherhowheusedtokeepdiamondsinatea—cup，andamusedhimselfbyarrangingthemonapieceofvelvet。SirRichardfledfromthesoundofmyprosyvoice，and，needlesstosay，Derrickfollowedhim。Weletthemgetwellinadvanceandthenfollowed，Fredasilentanddistraite，buteverynowandthenaskingaquestionabouttheMajor。
AsforDerrick，evidentlyhewasonguard。HesawagooddealoftheMerrifieldsandwassedulouslyattentivetotheminmanysmallways；butwithFredahewascuriouslyreserved，andifbychancetheydidtalktogether，hetookgoodcaretobringLawrence’snameintotheconversation。Onthewhole，Ibelieveloyaltywashisstrongestcharacteristic，andwantofloyaltyinotherstriedhimmoreseverelythananythingintheworld。
Asthespringworeon，itbecameevidenttoeveryonethattheMajorcouldnotlastlong。Hisson’swatchfulnessandtheenforcedtemperancewhichthedoctorsinsistedonhadprolongedhislifetoacertainextent，butgraduallyhissufferingsincreasedandhisstrengthdiminished。Atlasthekepthisbedaltogether。
WhatDerrickboreatthistimenoonecaneverknow。When，onebrightsunshinySaturday，Iwentdowntoseehowhewasgettingon，Ifoundhimwornandhaggard，tooevidentlypayingthepenaltyofsleeplessnightsandthanklesscare。IwasalittleshockedtohearthatLawrencehadbeensummoned，butwhenIwastakenintothesickroomIrealisedthattheyhaddonewiselytosendforthefavouriteson。
TheMajorwasevidentlydying。
NevercanIforgetthecrueltyandmalevolencewithwhichhisbloodshoteyesrestedonDerrick，orthepatiencewithwhichthedearoldfellowborehisfather’sscathingsarcasms。ItwaswhileI
wassittingbythebedthatthelandladyenteredwithatelegram，whichsheputintoDerrick’shand。
"FromLawrence!"saidthedyingmantriumphantly，"tosaybywhattrainwemayexpecthim。Well？"asDerrickstillreadthemessagetohimself，"can’tyouspeak，youd——didiot？Haveyoulostyourd—
—dtongue？Whatdoeshesay？"
"Iamafraidhecannotbeherejustyet，"saidDerrick，tryingtotonedownthecurtmessage；"itseemshecannotgetleave。"
"Notgetleavetoseehisdyingfather？Whatconfoundednonsense。
Givemethethinghere"；andhesnatchedthetelegramfromDerrickandreaditinaquavering，hoarsevoice：
"Impossibletogetaway。Amhopelesslytiedhere。Lovetomyfather。Greatlyregrettohearsuchbadnewsofhim。"
IthinkthatmessagemadetheoldmanrealisetheworthofLawrence’softenexpressedaffectionforhim。Clearlyitwasagreatblowtohim。Hethrewdownthepaperwithoutawordandclosedhiseyes。Forhalfanhourhelaylikethat，andwedidnotdisturbhim。Atlasthelookedup；hisvoicewasfainterandhismannermoregentle。
"Derrick，"hesaid，"IbelieveI’vedoneyouaninjustice；itisyouwhocaredforme，notLawrence，andI’vestruckyournameoutofmywill——haveleftalltohim。Afterall，thoughyouareoneofthoseconfoundednovelists，you’vedonewhatyoucouldforme。Letsomeonefetchasolicitor——I’llalterit——I’llalterit!"
Iinstantlyhurriedouttofetchalawyer，butitwasSaturdayafternoon，theofficeswereclosed，andsometimepassedbeforeI
hadcaughtmyman。Itoldhimaswehastenedbacksomeofthefactsofthecase，andhebroughthiswritingmaterialsintothesickroomandtookdownfromtheMajor’sownlipsthewordswhichwouldhavetheeffectofdividingtheoldman’spossessionsbetweenhistwosons。Dr。Mackrillwasnowpresent；hestoodononesideofthebed，hisfingersonthedyingman’spulse。OntheothersidestoodDerrick，adegreepalerandgraverthanusual，butrevealinglittleofhisrealfeelings。
"Worditasbrieflyasyoucan，"saidthedoctor。
Andthelawyerscribbledawayasthoughforhislife，whiletherestofuswaitedinawretchedhushedstateoftension。Intheroomitselftherewasnosoundsavethescratchingofthepenandthelabouredbreathingoftheoldman；butinthenexthousewecouldhearsomeoneplayingawaltz。Somehowitdidnotseemtomeincongruous，foritwas’Sweethearts，’andthathadbeenthefavouritewaltzofBenRhydding，sothatIalwaysconnecteditwithDerrickandhistrouble，andnowthewordsranginmyears：
"Oh，loveforayear，aweek，aday，Butalas!forthelovethatlovesalway。"
IfithadnotbeenfortheMajor’sreturnfromIndia，IfirmlybelievedthatDerrickandFredawouldbythistimehavebeenbetrothed。Derrickhadtakenalinewhichnecessarilydividedthem，haddonewhathesawtobehisduty；yetwhatweretheresults？HehadlostFreda，hehadlosthisbook，hehaddamagedhischanceofsuccessasawriter，hehadbeenstruckoutofhisfather’swill，andhehadsufferedunspeakably。Hadanythingwhateverbeengained？
TheMajorwasdyingunrepentanttoallappearance，ashardandcynicalanoldworldlingasIeversaw。Theonlysparkofgraceheshowedwasthattardyendeavourtomakeafreshwill。Whatgoodhaditallbeen？Whatgood？
Icouldnotanswerthequestionthen，couldonlycryoutinasortofindignation，"Whatprofitisthereinhisblood？"Butlookingatitnow，IhaveasortofperceptionthattheverylackofapparentprofitablenesswaspartofDerrick’straining，whileif，asInowinclinetothink，thereisahereafterwherethetrainingbegunhereiscontinued，theoldMajorinthehellhemostrichlydeservedwouldhavetheremembranceofhisson’spatienceandconstancyanddevotiontoserveasaguidinglightintheouterdarkness。
Thelawyernolongerwroteatrailroadspeed；hepushedbackhischair，broughtthewilltothebed，andplacedthepeninthetremblingyellowhandoftheinvalid。
"Youmustsignyournamehere，"hesaid，pointingwithhisfinger；
andtheMajorraisedhimselfalittle，andbroughtthepenquaveringlydowntowardsthepaper。WithasortoffascinationI
watchedthefinely—pointedsteelnib；ittrembledforaninstantortwo，thenthependroppedfromtheconvulsedfingers，andwithacryofintolerableanguishtheMajorfellback。
Forsomeminutestherewasapainfulstruggle；presentlywecaughtawordortwobetweenthegroansofthedyingman。
"Toolate!"hegasped，"toolate!"Andthenadreadfulvisionofhorrorsseemedtorisebeforehim，andwithaterrorthatIcanneverforgetheturnedtohissonandclutchedfastholdofhishands："Derrick!"heshrieked。
Derrickcouldnotspeak，buthebentlowoverthebedasthoughtoscreenthedyingeyesfromthosehorriblevisions，andwithanoddsortofthrillIsawhimembracehisfather。
WhenheraisedhisheadtheterrorhaddiedoutoftheMajor’sface；
allwasover。
ChapterIX。
"Todutyfirm，toconsciencetrue，Howevertriedandpressed，InGod’sclearsighthighworkwedo，Ifwebutdooutbest。"
Lawrencecamedowntothefuneral，andItookgoodcarethatheshouldhearallabouthisfather’slasthours，andImadethesolicitorshowhimtheunsignedwill。Hemadehardlyanycommentonittillwethreewerealonetogether。Thenwithasortofkindlypatronageheturnedtohisbrother——Derrick，itmustberemembered，wastheeldertwin——andsaidpityingly，"Pooroldfellow!itwasratherroughonyouthatthegovernorcouldn’tsignthis；butnevermind，you’llsoon，nodoubt，beearningafortunebyyourbooks；andbesides，whatdoesabachelorwantwithmorethanyou’vealreadyinheritedfromourmother？Whereas，anofficerjustgoingtobemarried，andwiththisconfoundedreputationofherotokeepup，why，Icantellyouitneedseverypennyofit!"
Derricklookedathisbrothersearchingly。Ihonestlybelievethathedidn’tverymuchcareaboutthemoney，butitcuthimtotheheartthatLawrenceshouldtreathimsoshabbily。Thesoulofgenerosityhimself，hecouldnotunderstandhowanyonecouldframeaspeechsoinfernallymean。
"Ofcourse，"Ibrokein，"ifDerricklikedtogotolawhecouldnodoubtgethisrights，therearethreewitnesseswhocanprovewhatwastheMajor’srealwish。"
"Ishallnotgotolaw，"saidDerrick，withadignityofwhichIhadhardlyimaginedhimcapable。"Youspokeofyourmarriage，Lawrence；
isittobesoon？"
"Thisautumn，Ihope，"saidLawrence；"atleast，ifIcanovercomeSirRichard’sridiculousnotionthatagirloughtnottomarrytillshe’stwenty—one。He’samostcrotchetyoldfellow，thatfuturefather—in—lawofmine。"
WhenLawrencehadfirstcomebackfromthewarIhadthoughthimwonderfullyimproved，butalongcourseofspoilingandflatteryhaddonehimaworldofharm。Helikedverymuchtobelionised，andtoseehimnowposingindrawing—rooms，surroundedbyaworshippingthrongofwomen，wasenoughtosickenanysensiblebeing。
AsforDerrick，thoughhecouldnotbeexpectedtofeelhisbereavementintheordinaryway，yethisfather’sdeathhadbeenagreatshocktohim。ItwasarrangedthataftersettlingvariousmattersinBathheshouldgodowntostaywithhissisterforatime，joiningmeinMontagueStreetlateron。WhilehewasawayinBirmingham，however，anextraordinarychangecameintomyhumdrumlife，andwhenherejoinedmeafewweekslater，I——selfishbrute——
wassooverwhelmedwiththetroublethathadbefallenmethatI
thoughtverylittleindeedofhisaffairs。Hetookthisquiteasamatterofcourse，andwhatIshouldhavedonewithouthimIcan’tconceive。However，thisstoryconcernshimandhasnothingtodowithmyextraordinarydilemma；Imerelymentionitasafactwhichbroughtadditionalcaresintohislife。Allthetimehewasdoingwhatcouldbedonetohelpmehewasalsogoingthroughamostbafflingandmiserabletimeamongthepublishers；for’AtStrife，’
unlikeitspredecessor，wasrejectedbyDavisonandbyfiveotherhouses。Thinkofthis，youcomfortablereaders，asyouliebackinyoureasychairsandleisurelyturnthepagesofthatpopularstory。
Thebookwhichrepresentedyearsofstudyandlonghoursofhardworkwasfirstburnttoacinder。Itwasre—writtenwithwhatinfinitepainsandtoilfewcanunderstand。Itwasthensixtimestiedupandcarriedwithanxietyandhopetoapublisher’soffice，onlytore—appearsixtimesinMontagueStreet，anunwelcomevisitor，bringingwithitdepressionanddisappointment。
Derricksaidlittle，butsufferedmuch。However，nothingdauntedhim。Whenitcamebackfromthesixthpublisherhetookittoaseventh，thenreturnedandwroteawaylikeaTrojanathisthirdbook。TheonethingthatneverfailedhimwasthatcuriousconsciousnessthatheHADtowrite；liketheprophetsofold，the’burden’cametohim，andspeakithemust。
Theseventhpublisherwroteasomewhatdubiousletter：thebook，hethought，hadgreatmerit，butunluckilypeoplewereprejudiced，andhistoricalnovelsrarelymetwithsuccess。However，hewaswillingtotakethestory，andofferedhalfprofits，candidlyadmittingthathehadnogreathopesofalargesale。Derrickinstantlyclosedwiththisoffer，proofscamein，thebookappeared，waswellreceivedlikeitspredecessor，fellintothehandsofoneoftheleadersofSociety，and，totheintensesurpriseofthepublisher，provedtobethenoveloftheyear。Speedilyasecondeditionwascalledfor；then，afterabriefinterval，athirdedition——thistimearationalone—volumeaffair；andthewholelot——6，000Ibelieve——
wentoffonthedayofpublication。Derrickwasamazed；butheenjoyedhissuccessveryheartily，andIthinknoonecouldsaythathehadleaptintofameatabound。
Havingdevoured’AtStrife，’peoplebegantodiscoverthemeritsof’Lynwood’sHeritage；’thelibrarieswerebesiegedforit，andacheapeditionwashastilypublished，andanotherandanother，tillthebook，whichatfirsthadbeensuchadeadfailure，rivalled’AtStrife。’Trulyanauthor’scareerisacuriousthing；andpreciselywhythefirstbookfailed，andthesecondsucceeded，noonecouldexplain。
ItamusedmeverymuchtoseeDerrickturnedintoalion——hewassoessentiallyun—lion—like。Peoplewereforeveraskinghimhowheworked，andIrememberaveryprettygirlsettinguponhimonceatadinner—partywiththeembarrassingrequest：
"Now，dotellme，Mr。Vaughan，howdoyouwritestories？Iwishyouwouldgivemeagoodreceiptforanovel。"
Derrickhesitateduneasilyforaminute；finally，withahumoroussmile，hesaid：
"Well，Ican’texactlytellyou，because，moreorless，novelsgrow；
butifyouwantareceipt，youmightperhapstryafterthisfashion：——Conceiveyourhero，addasprinklingoffriendsandrelatives，flavourwithwhateversceneryorlocalcolouryouplease，carefullyconsiderwhatcircumstancesaremostlikelytodevelopyourmanintothebestheiscapableof，allowthewholetosimmerinyourbrainaslongasyoucan，andthenserve，whilehot，withinkuponwhiteorbluefoolscap，accordingtotaste。"
Theyoungladyapplaudedthereceipt，butshesighedalittle，andprobablyrelinquishedallhopeofconcoctinganovelherself；onthewhole，itseemedtoinvolveincessanttakingoftrouble。
AboutthistimeIremember，too，anotherlittlescene，whichI
enjoyedamazingly。IlaughnowwhenIthinkofit。Ihappenedtobeatahugeeveningcrush，andrathertomysurprise，cameacrossLawrenceVaughan。Weweretalkingtogether，whenupcameConningtonoftheForeignOffice。"Isay，Vaughan，"hesaid，"LordRemingtonwishestobeintroducedtoyou。"IwatchedtheoldstatesmanalittlecuriouslyashegreetedLawrence，andlistenedtohisfirstwords："Verygladtomakeyouracquaintance，CaptainVaughan；I
understandthattheauthorofthatgrandnovel，’AtStrife，’isabrotherofyours。"AndpoorLawrencespentamauvaisquartd’heure，inwardlyfuming，Iknow，attheideathathe，theheroofSaspatarasHill，shouldbeconsideredmerelyas’thebrotherofVaughan，thenovelist。’
Fate，orperhapsIshouldsaytheeffectofhisownperniciousactions，didnotdealkindlyjustnowwithLawrence。SomehowFredalearntaboutthatwill，and，beingnobread—and—buttermiss，contentmeeklytoadoreherfianceanddeemhimfaultless，she’upandspake’onthesubject，andIfancypoorLawrencemusthavehadanothermauvaisquartd’heure。Itwasnotthis，however，whichledtoafinalbreachbetweenthem；itwassomethingwhichSirRicharddiscoveredwithregardtoLawrence’slifeatDover。Theengagementwasinstantlybrokenoff，andFreda，Iamsure，feltnothingbutrelief。Shewentabroadforsometime，however，andwedidnotseehertilllongafterLawrencehadbeencomfortablymarriedto1，500
poundsayearandamiddle—agedwidow，whohadlongbeenahero—
worshipper，andwho，Iamtold，neverallowedanyvisitortoleavethehousewithoutmakingsomeallusiontothememorablebattleofSaspatarasHillandherLawrence’sgallantaction。
ForthetwoyearsfollowingaftertheMajor’sdeath，DerrickandI，asImentionedbefore，sharedtheroomsinMontagueStreet。Forme，owingtothetroubleIspokeof，theywereyearsofmaddeningsuspenseandpain；butwhatpleasureIdidmanagetoenjoycameentirelythroughthesuccessofmyfriend’sbooksandfromhiscompanionship。ItwasoddthatfromthecareofhisfatherheshouldimmediatelypassontothecareofonewhohadmadesuchadisastrousmistakeasIhadmade。ButIfeelthelesscompunctionatthethoughtoftheamountofsympathyIcalledforatthattime，becauseInoticethatthegivingofsympathyisanecessityforDerrick，andthatwhenthetroublesofotherfolkdonotimmediatelythrustthemselvesintohislifehecarefullyhuntsthemup。DuringthesetwoyearshewasreadingfortheBar——notthatheeverexpectedtodoverymuchasabarrister，buthethoughtitwelltohavesomethingtofallbackon，anddeclaredthatthedrudgeryofthereadingwoulddohimgood。Hewasalsowritingasusual，andheusedtospendtwoeveningsaweekatWhitechapel，wherehetaughtoneoftheclassesinconnectionwithToynbeeHall，andwherehegainedthatknowledgeofEast—endlifewhichisconspicuousinhisthirdbook——’DickCarew。’This，withaneverincreasingandoftenveryburdensomecorrespondence，broughttohimbyhisbooks，andwithafairshareofdinners，’AtHomes，’andsoforth，madehislifeafullone。InaquietsortofwayIbelievehewashappyduringthistime。Butlateron，when，mytroubleatanend，Ihadmigratedtoahouseofmyown，andhewasleftaloneintheMontagueStreetrooms，hisspiritssomehowflagged。
Fameis，afterall，ahollow，unsatisfyingthingtoamanofhisnature。Heheartilyenjoyedhissuccess，hedelightedinhearingthathisbookshadgivenpleasureorhadbeenofusetoanyone，butnopublicvictorycouldintheleastmakeuptohimforthelosshehadsufferedinhisprivatelife；indeed，Ialmostthinkthereweretimeswhenhistriumphsasanauthorseemedtohimutterlyworthless——daysofdepressionwhenthecongratulationsofhisfriendswerenothingbutamockery。Hehadgainedastrikingsuccess，itistrue，buthehadlostFreda；hewasinthepositionofthestarvingmanwhohasreceivedagiftofbon—bons，butsocravesforbreadthattheyhalfsickenhim。Iusednowandthentowatchhisfacewhen，asoftenhappened，someonesaid："Whatanenviablefellowyouare，Vaughan，togetonlikethis!"or，"Whatwouldn’tIgivetochangeplaceswithyou!"Hewouldinvariablysmileandturntheconversation；buttherewasalookinhiseyesatsuchtimesthatIhatedtosee——italwaysmademethinkofMrs。
Browning’spoem，’TheMask’：
"Behindnoprison—grate，shesaid，Whichslursthesunshinehalfamile，LivecaptivessouncomfortedAssoulsbehindasmile。"
AstotheMerrifields，therewasnochanceofseeingthem，forSirRichardhadgonetoIndiainsomeofficialcapacity，andnodoubt，aseveryonesaid，theywouldtakegoodcaretomarryFredaoutthere。DerrickhadnotseenhersincethattryingFebruaryatBath，longago。YetIfancyshewasneveroutofhisthoughts。
Andsotheyearsrolledon，andDerrickworkedawaysteadily，givinghisbookstotheworld，acceptingthecomfortsanddiscomfortsofanauthor’slife，laughingattheoutrageousreportsthatwereincirculationabouthim，yetoccasionally，Ithink，inwardlywincingatthem，andlearningfromthenumberofbeggingletterswhichhereceived，andintowhichheusuallycausedsearchinginquirytobemade，thatthereareintheworldavastnumberofundeservingpoor。
OnedayIhappenedtomeetLadyProbynatagarden—party；itwasatthesamehouseonCampdenHillwhereIhadoncemetFreda，andperhapsitwastherecollectionofthiswhichpromptedmetoenquireafterher。
"Shehasnotbeenwell，"saidLadyProbyn，"andtheyaresendingherbacktoEngland；theclimatedoesn’tsuither。Sheistomakeherhomewithusforthepresent，soIamthegainer。Fredahasalwaysbeenmyfavouriteniece。Idon’tknowwhatitisaboutherthatissotaking；sheisnothalfsoprettyastheothers。"
"Butsomuchmorecharming，"Isaid。"IwondershehasnotmarriedoutinIndia，aseveryoneprophesied。"
"AndsodoI，"saidheraunt。"However，poorchild，nodoubt，afterhavingbeentwoyearsengagedtothatverydisappointingheroofSaspatarasHill，shewillbeshyofventuringtotrustanyoneagain。"
"Doyouthinkthataffaireverwentverydeep？"Iventuredtoask。
"Itseemedtomethatshelookedmiserableduringherengagement，andhappywhenitwasbrokenoff。"
"Quiteso，"saidLadyProbyn；"Inoticedthesamething。Itwasnothingbutamistake。Theywerenotintheleastsuitedtoeachother。By—the—by，IhearthatDerrickVaughanismarried。"
"Derrick？"Iexclaimed；"oh，no，thatisamistake。Itismerelyoneofthehundredandonereportsthatareforeverbeingsetafloatabouthim。"
"ButIsawitinapaper，Iassureyou，"saidLadyProbyn，bynomeansconvinced。
"Ah，thatmayverywellbe；theywerehardupforaparagraph，nodoubt，andinsertedit。But，asforDerrick，why，howshouldhemarry？HehasbeenmadlyinlovewithMissMerrifieldeversinceourcruiseintheAurora。"
LadyProbynmadeaninarticulateexclamation。
"Poorfellow!"shesaid，afteraminute’sthought；"thatexplainsmuchtome。"
Shedidnotexplainherratherambiguousremark，andbeforelongourtete—a—tetewasinterrupted。
Nowthatmyfriendwasafull—fledgedbarrister，heandIsharedchambers，andonemorningaboutamonthafterthisgardenparty，DerrickcameinwithafaceofsuchradianthappinessthatI
couldn’timaginewhatgoodluckhadbefallenhim。
"Whatdoyouthink？"heexclaimed；"here’saninvitationforacruiseintheAuroraattheendofAugust——tobenearlythesamepartythatwehadyearsago，"andhethrewdowntheletterformetoread。
Ofcoursetherewasspecialmentionof"myniece，MissMerrifield，whohasjustreturnedfromIndia，andisorderedplentyofsea—air。"
Icouldhavetoldthatwithoutreadingtheletter，foritwaswrittenquiteclearlyinDerrick’sface。Helookedtenyearsyounger，andifanyofhisadoringreaderscouldhaveseentheprankshewasuptothatmorninginourstaidandrespectablechambers，Iamafraidtheywouldnolongerhavespokenofhim"with’batedbreathandwhisperinghumbleness。"
Asithappened，I，too，wasabletoleavehomeforafortnightattheendofAugust；andsoourpartyintheAurorareallywasthesame，exceptthatwewereallseveralyearsolder，andletushopewiser，thanonthepreviousoccasion。Consideringallthathadintervened，IwassurprisedthatDerrickwasnotmorealtered；asforFreda，shewasdecidedlypalerthanwhenwefirstmether，butbeforelongsea—airandhappinesswroughtawonderfultransformationinher。
Inspiteofthepessimistswhoareforeverwritingbooks，evenwritingnovels（moreshametothem），toprovethatthereisnosuchthingashappinessintheworld，wemanagedeveryoneofusheartilytoenjoyourcruise。Itseemedindeedtruethat：
"Greenleavesandblossoms，andsunnywarmweather，Andsingingandlovingallcomebacktogether。"
Something，atanyrate，oftheglamourofthosepastdayscamebacktousall，Ifancy，aswelaughedanddozedandidledandtalkedbeneaththesnowywingsoftheAurora，andIcannotsayIwasintheleastsurprisedwhen，onroamingthroughthepleasantgardenwalksinthatuniquelittleislandofTresco，IcameoncemoreuponDerrickandFreda，with，ifyouwillbelieveit，anotherhandfulofwhiteheathergiventothembythatdiscerninggardener!Fredaoncemoreremindedmeofthegirlinthe’BiglowPapers，’andDerrick’sfacewasfullofsuchblissasoneseldomsees。
Hehadalwayshadtowaitforhisgoodthings，butintheendtheycametohim。However，youmaydependuponit，hedidn’tsaymuch。
Thatwasneverhisway。Heonlygrippedmyhand，and，withhiseyesallaglowwithhappiness，exclaimed"Congratulateme，oldfellow!"
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