When he was at the lowest, there came a letter from Olga Hannaford,
the first he had ever received in her writing. Olga had joined her
mother at Malvern, and Mrs. Hannaford was so unwell that it seemed
likely they would remain there for a few weeks. "When we can move,
the best thing will be to take a house in or near London. Mother has
decided not to return to Bryanston Square, and I, for my part, shall
give up the life you made fun of. You were quite right; of course it
was foolish to go on in that way." She asked him to write to her
mother, whom a line from him would cheer. Piers did so; also
replying to his correspondent, and trying to make a humorous picture
of the life he led between the City and Guilford Street. It was a
sorry jest, but it helped him against his troubles. When, in a
week's time, Olga again wrote, he was glad. The letter seemed to him
interesting; it revived their common memories of life at Geneva,
whither Olga said she would like to return. "What to do--how to
pass the years before me--is the question with me now, as I
suppose it is with so many girls of my age. I must find a _mission_.
Can you suggest one? Only don't let it have anything humanitarian
about it. That would make me a humbug, which I have never been yet.
It must be something entirely for my own pleasure and profit. Do
think about it in an idle moment."
With recovery from his physical ill-being came a new mental
restlessness; the return, rather, of a mood which had always
assailed him when he lost for a time his ideal hope.
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