the frivolities
of Babington, he had been full of wrath, and had declared to himself
that the young man must be expelled, if not from all affection, yet from
all esteem. And he had gone on to tell himself that it would be
unprofitable for him to live with a son whom he did not esteem. Then it
had come to pass that, arguing it out in his own mind, rationally, as he
had thought, but still under the impulse of hot anger, he had determined
that it was better that they should part, even though the parting should
be for ever. But now he had almost forgotten Davis,--had turned the
matter over in his mind till he had taught himself to think that the
disruption had been altogether his son's work, and in no degree his own.
His son had not loved him. He had not been able to inspire his son with
love. He was solitary and wretched because he had been harsh and
unforgiving. That was his own judgment as to himself. But he never said a
word of his feelings to any human being.

John had promised to write. The promise had not been very
enthusiastically given; but still, as the months went by it was
constantly remembered. The young man, after leaving Cambridgeshire, had
remained some weeks at the Shands' house before he had started;--and
from thence he had not written. The request had been that he should
write from Australia, and the correspondence between him and his father
had always been so slight, that it had not occurred to him to write from
Pollington. But Mr. Caldigate had,--not expected, but hoped that a
letter might come at the last moment. He knew to a day, to an hour, when
the vessel would sail from Plymouth. There might have been a letter from
Plymouth, but no letter came. And then the months went by slowly. The
son did not write from Melbourne, nor from Nobble,--nor from Ahalala
till gold had been found. So it came to pass that nearly eight months
had passed, and that the father had told himself again and again that
his son had torn himself altogether away from all remembrance of his
home, before the letter came.

It was not a long letter, but it was very satisfactory The finding of
the gold was in itself, of course, a great thing; but the manner in
which it was told, without triumph or exultation, but with an air of
sober, industrious determination, was much more; and then there was a
word or two at the end: 'Dear father,--I think of you every day, and am
already looking forward to the time when I may return and see you
a