It was Dr.Owen who, contrary to his usual careful habits, sat at that open window in the gathering twilight, dreaming dreams which were borne to him on the sound of the rushing waters, which lulled his senses, and brought before him the scenes of his past life.

The twilight darkened into gloom, and still he sat on in brooding thought, letting the voice of the river bear to him on its wings sweet memories or sad retrospect as it chose.

The early days of his childhood came back to him, when with a light heart he had roamed over moor and sandy beach, or over the grassy slopes of Garthowen.

The river still sang on, and before him rose the vision of a man of homely and rustic appearance, who urged and encouraged his youthful ardour in the pursuit of knowledge, who rejoiced at his successes, and supplied his wants, who laid his hand upon his young head with a dying blessing.
How vividly the scene returned to him! The dismay of the household when that rugged figure disappeared from the scene, the difficulties which had crowded his path in the further pursuance of his education, the arduous steps up the ladder of learning, the perseverance crowned with success! Still the rushing river filled his ears and brought before him its phantom memories--his successful career in the Church--his prosperous marriage, the calm domestic life which followed--the wealth--the honour--the prestige--what had they led to ?--an empty home, a solitary hearth, no heir to inherit his riches, no young voices to fill the house with music and laughter--no--it had all turned to dust and ashes--there was no one to whom he could confide his joys or his sorrows--he was alone in the world, but need it always be so?
and again he listened, deep in thought, to the spirit voices which the roar of the river seemed to carry into his soul.

What a change would Will's presence bring into his life.