... "Then doth the Traveller at length possess his soul and
is master of it ... this is the meaning and purpose of life."
At last he rose from his knees, physically tired, as though it had been
some physical struggle. But he was quiet again ... the terror had left him,
but he knew now with what beasts he had got to wrestle....
At supper that night he watched his father. Curiously, after his struggle
of the afternoon, all terror had left him and he felt as though he was of
his father's age and strength.
In the middle of the meal he spoke:
"How is mother to-night, father?"
He had never asked about his mother before, but his voice was quite even
and steady. His aunt dropped her knife clattering on to her plate.
His father answered him:
"Why do you wish to know?"
"It is natural, isn't it? I am afraid that she is not so well."
"She is as well as can be expected."
They said no more, but once his father suddenly looked at him, as though he
had noticed some new note in his voice.
III
On the next afternoon his father went into Truro. A doctor came
occasionally to the house--a little man like a beaver--but Peter felt that
he was under his father's hand and he despised him.
It was a clear Autumn afternoon with a scent of burning leaves in the air
and heavy massive white clouds were piled in ramparts beyond the brown
hills.
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