Of course his father was mainly
responsible for what had so far happened. Jerome Otway, whilst
deciding that this youngest son of his should be set in the sober
way of commerce, to advance himself, if fate pleased, through
recognised grades of social respectability, was by no means careful
to hide from the lad his own rooted contempt of such ideals. Nothing
could have been more inconsistent than the old agitator's behaviour
in attempting to discharge this practical duty. That he meant well
was all one could say of him; for it was not permissible to suppose
Jerome Otway defective in intelligence. Perhaps the outcome of
solicitude in the case of his two elder sons had so far discouraged
him, that, on the first symptoms of instability, he ceased to regard
Piers as within his influence.
Piers, this morning, had a terrible sense of loneliness, of
abandonment. The one certainty by which he had lived, his delight in
books, his resolve to become erudite, now of a sudden vanished. He
did not know himself; he was in a strange world, and bewildered.
Nay, he was suffering anguish.
Why had Miss Derwent disregarded him at breakfast? He must have
offended her last night. And that could only be in one way, by
neglecting his work to loiter about the drawing-room. She had
respected him at all events; now, no doubt she fancied he had not
deserved her respect.
This magnificent piece of self-torturing logic sufficed to occupy
him all the morning.
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