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inflict."
    School had not been altogether unpleasant. Having spent the
    first ten years of his life attempting to please his father, Matthias
    continued the futile effort. He had thrown himself into his studies.
    Thomas had paid little attention to the boy's scholarly
    successes, but something unusual did occur during those years.
    Unlike the majority of his companions, Matthias had actually
    "
    become enthralled by the classical texts that formed the core of
    the curriculum. As he grew older they continued to draw him with
    an inexplicable power. He sensed the secrets hidden deep within
    them.
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    Long, melancholic letters from Elizabeth had kept him
    informed of her endless complaints about his father's selfish,
    tight-fisted ways, the house parties she had planned, and her
    illnesses. Matthias dreaded going home between terms, but he did
    so because something inside him told him that it was his duty. As
    the years passed, he saw enough of his mother to realize that
    between house parties she had begun to treat her depressed spir
    its with increasing quantities of wine and laudanum.
    The letters from his father had been few and far between. They
    were concerned primarily with the high cost of Matthias's school
    expenses and angry diatribes about the relentless financial
    demands Elizabeth made through the solicitor.
    Elizabeth drowned in an estate pond the winter of Matthias's
    fourteenth year. The servants said that she had had a great deal of
    wine at dinner that night and several glasses of brandy afterward.
    She had told her staff that she wished to take an evening walk
    alone.
    Her death had been declared an accident, but Matthias some
    times wondered if his mother had committed suicide. Either way,
    he was doomed to bear a measure of guilt for the rest of his life
    because he had not been there to save her. His mother would have
    wanted it that way, he thought wryly.
    He could still see his father standing on the other side of
    Elizabeth's grave. It was a memorable occasion for many reasons,
    not the least of which was that Matthias had made his first serious
    promise to himself that day. He had looked into his father's face
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    and silently vowed that he would never again bother to try to
    please him. A coldness had settled somewhere inside him that day.
    It had never disappeared.
    Thomas had been blithely unaware of Matthias's mood. He had
    taken him aside immediately after the funeral and jubilantly
    announced his intention to wed again. Thomas's relief at being
    free of Elizabeth and his happy anticipation of his forthcoming
    nuptials had stood in sharp contrast to the colors of mourning that
    surrounded them.
    Her name is Charlotte Poole, Matthias. She is lovely and
    gracious and pure. A noble paragon of womanhood. She will bring
    me a happiness I have never known."
    How nice for you, sir."
    Matthias had turned on his heel and walked away from his
    mother's grave. He had known then that her ghost would follow
    him.
    The letter from Thomas announcing the birth of a daughter,
    Patricia, had come a year after the earl's marriage to Charlotte.
    Matthias had carefully read the joyful, glowing words his father
    had penned describing his deep and abiding affection" for his
    infant daughter and her mother. When he was finished, Matthias
    had consigned the birth announcement to the hearth. As he
    watched the letter burn, he thought he saw his mother's ghost in
    the flames. Hers proved to be the first of many.
    The streak of silver appeared in Matthias's hair almost
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    overnight. Thomas began to send increasingly earnest letters to his
    son, inviting him to visit his new family. Matthias ignored them.
    By the time he had finished his studies, Matthias was well
    steeped in Greek, Latin, hazard, and