by the last sentence of the letter, Piers gladly went; for he
liked to talk with John Jacks, and had a troubled pleasure in the
thought that he might hear something about the approaching marriage. On
his arrival, he was shown into the study, where his host lay on a sofa.
The greeting was cordial, the voice cheery as ever, but as Mr. Jacks
rose he had more of the appearance of old age than Piers had yet seen
in him; he seemed to stand with some difficulty, his face betokening a
body ill at ease.

"How pleasant London is in September!" he exclaimed, with a laugh.
"I've been driving about, as one does in a town abroad, just to see the
streets. Strange that one knows Paris and Rome a good deal better than
London. Yet it's really very interesting--don't you think?"

The twinkling eye, the humorous accent, which had won Piers' affection,
soon allayed his disquietude at being in this house. He spoke of his
own recent excursion, confessing that he better appreciated London from
a distance.

"Ay, ay! I know all about that," replied Mr. Jacks, his Yorkshire note
sounding, as it did occasionally. "But you're young, you're young; what
does it matter where you live? To be your age again, I'd live at St.
Helens, or Widnes. You have hope, man, always hope. And you may live to
see what the world is like half a century from now. It's strange to
look at you, and think that!"

John Jacks' presence in London, and alone, at this time of the year had
naturally another explanation than that he felt tired of the seaside.
In truth, he had come up to see a medical specialist. Carefully he kept
from his wife the knowledge of a disease which was taking hold upon
him, which--as he had just learnt--threatened rapidly fatal results.
From his son, also, he had concealed the serious state of his health,
lest it should interfere with Arnold's happy mood in prospect of
marriage. He was no coward, but a life hitherto untroubled by sickness
had led him to hope that he might pass easily from the world, and a
doom of extinction by torture perturbed his philosophy.

He liked to forget himself in contemplation of Piers Otway's youth and
soundness. He had pleasure, too, in Piers' talk, which reminded him of
Jerome Otway, some half-century ago.

Mrs. Jacks was staying with her own family, and from that house would
pass to others, equally decorous, where John had promised to join her.
Of course she was uneasy about him; that entered into her role of model