Let
me just say this: you rightly doubt whether you should call yourself
unlucky. If, as I can imagine, the daughter of Dr. Derwent is a girl
worth your homage, nothing better could have befallen you than this
discovery of your 'ideal.' Whether you will be faithful to be
faithful to it, the gods alone know. If you _can_ be, even for a few
ears of youth, so much the happier and nobler your lot!
"Work at money-making, then. And, as I catch a glimmer of your
meaning in this resolve, I will tell you something for your comfort.
If you hold on at commerce, and verily make way, and otherwise
approve yourself what I think you, I promise that you shall not lack
advancement. Plainly, I have a little matter of money put by, for
sundry uses; and, if the day comes when something of capital would
stead you (after due trial, as I premise), it shall be at your
disposal.
"Write to me with a free heart. I have lived my life perchance I can
help you to live yours better. The will, assuredly, is not wanting.
"Courage, then! Pursue your purpose--
'Con l'animo che vince ogni battaglia,
Se col suo grave corpo non s'accascia.'
"And, believe me that you could have no better intimate for leisure
hours than the old Florentine, who knew so many things; among them,
your own particular complaint."
CHAPTER X
Clad for a long railway journey on a hot day; a grey figure of
fluent lines, of composedly decisive movements; a little felt hat
close-fitting to the spirited head, leaving full and frank the soft
rounded face, with its quietly observant eyes, its lips of contained
humour--Irene Derwent stepped from a cab at Euston Station and
went forward into the booking-office.
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