Thus it seemed to me, and I doubted not it would to my father, much
more reasonable and natural that a boy like John Halifax--in whom
from every word he said I detected a mind and breeding above his
outward condition--should come of gentle than of boorish blood.

"Then, perhaps," I said, resuming the conversation, "you would not
like to follow a trade?"

"Yes, I should. What would it matter to me? My father was a
gentleman."

"And your mother?"

And he turned suddenly round; his cheeks hot, his lips quivering:
"She is dead. I do not like to hear strangers speak about my
mother."

I asked his pardon. It was plain he had loved and mourned her; and
that circumstances had smothered down his quick boyish feelings into
a man's tenacity of betraying where he had loved and mourned. I,
only a few minutes after, said something about wishing we were not
"strangers."

"Do you?" The lad's half amazed, half-grateful smile went right to
my heart.

"Have you been up and down the country much?"

"A great deal--these last three years; doing a hand's turn as best I