"Yes, more and more. They think that material prosperity is progress. So it is—up to a certain point, and who ever stops there? Look at Germany."
"Once the peaceful home of pure intellect, the land of Goethe."
"Once, yes. And my fear is that our brute, blustering Bismarck may be coming. But," he suddenly brightened, "croakers be hanged! The civilisers are at work too, and they have their way in the end. Think of a man like your father, who seemed to pass and be forgotten. Was it really so? I'll warrant that at this hour Jerome Otway's spirit is working in many of our best minds. There's no calculating the power of the man who speaks from his very heart. His words don't perish, though he himself may lose courage."
Listening, Piers felt a glow pass into all the currents of his life.
"If only," he exclaimed, in a voice that trembled, "I had as much strength as desire to carry on his work!"
"Why, who knows?" replied John Jacks, looking with encouragement wherein mingled something of affection.
"You have the power of sincerity, I see that. Speak always as you believe, and who knows what opportunity you may find for making yourself heard!"
John Jacks reflected deeply for a few moments.
"I'm going away in a day or two," he said at length, in a measured voice, "and my movements are uncertain—uncertain. But we shall meet again before the end of the year."
When he had left the house, Piers recalled the tone of this remark, and dwelt upon it with disquietude.