he new
revelation of Science, than fond of him in return. Andrew Winthrop's
greatest ambition had been to equip his son so thoroughly that he would
be able to take advantage of this new light immediately, without any
time lost in bewilderment or hesitation; the 'prentice-work would all
have been done. And Evert, interested and busy, leading an active life
as well as a studious one, had never felt discontent.

The evening after the funeral he was alone in the old house. Everything
had been set in order again, that painful order which strikes first upon
the hearts of the mourners when they return to their desolate home, an
order which seems to say: "All is over; he is gone and will return to
you no more. You must now take up the burdens of life again, and go
forward." The silent room was lonely, Evert read a while, but could not
fix his attention; he rose, walked about aimlessly, then went to the
window and looked out. It was bitterly cold, there was deep snow
outside; an icy wind swayed the boughs of a naked elm which stood near
the window. Against the dark sky to-night the familiar light was not
visible; the furnaces had been shut down out of respect for the dead.
For the first time there stirred in Evert Winthrop's mind the feeling
that the cold was cruel, inhuman; that there was a conscious element in
it; that it hated man, and was savage to him; would kill him, and did
kill him when it could. The house seemed in league with this enemy; in
spite of the bright fire the chill kept creeping in, and for the life of
him he could not rid himself of the idea that he ought to go out and
cover his poor old father, lying there helpless under the snow, with
something thick and warm. He roused himself with an effort, he knew that
these were unhealthy fancies; he made up his mind that he would go away
for a while, the under-superintendent could see to the foundery during
his absence, which would not, of course, be long. But the next day he
learned that he could remain away for as long a time as he pleased--he
had inherited nearly a million.

It was a great surprise. Andrew Winthrop had so successfully concealed
the amount of his fortune that Evert had supposed that the foundery, and
the income that came from it, a moderate one, together with the old
house to live in, would be all. Andrew Winthrop's intention in this
concealment had been to bestow upon his son, so far as he could, during
his youth, a personal knowledge of life as