I thought of the old days, a lifetime ago; and I said to
myself that I would write him a letter. So I will, to-day. And in a
month or two I shall see him. I'm a walking-copybook-line;
procrastination--nothing but putting off pleasures and duties
these last years; I don't know how it is. But certainly I will go
over to Hawes when I'm in Yorkshire. And I'll write today, tell him
I've seen you."
Much better in spirits, Piers returned to the hotel. Yes, after all,
he would copy out those verses of his, and send them to Miss
Derwent. They were not bad; they came from his heart, and they might
speak to hers. Just his name at the end; no address. If she desired
to write to him, she could easily learn his address from Mrs.
Hannaford. He would send them!
"A telegram for you, sir," said the porter, as he entered.
Wondering, he opened it.
"Your father has suddenly died. Hope this will reach you in time.
EMMA OTWAY."
For a minute or two, the message was meaningless. He stood reading
and re-reading the figures which indicated hour of despatch and of
delivery. Presently he asked for a railway-guide, and with shaking
hands, with agony of mental confusion, sought out the next train
northwards. There was just time to catch it; not time to pack his
bag. He rushed out to the cab.
CHAPTER XIV
"The circumstances are these. On the day after I said good-bye to
him, my father went for his usual morning walk, and was absent for
two hours.
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