fixed in a wide absent gaze. Mrs. Eldon had lost all the severity of
her face; the profound sorrow of a pure and noble nature was alone
to be read there now.

'What,' she continued--'what is this class distinction upon which we
pride ourselves? What does it mean, if not that our opportunities
lead us to see truths to which the eyes of the poor and ignorant are
blind? Is there nothing in it, after all--in our pride of birth and
station? That is what people are saying nowadays: you yourself have
jested to me about our privileges. You almost make me dread that you
were right. Look back at that man, whom I came to honour as my own
father. He began life as a toiler with his hands. Only a fortnight
ago he was telling me stories of his boyhood, of seventy years
since. He was without education; his ideas of truth and goodness he
had to find within his own heart. Could anything exceed the noble
simplicity of his respect for me, for you boys? We were poor, but it
seemed to him that we had from nature what no money could buy. He
was wrong; his faith misled him. No, not wrong with regard to all of
us; my boy Godfrey was indeed all that he believed. But think of
himself; what advantage have we over him? I know no longer what to
believe. Oh, Hubert!'

He left his chair and walked to a more distant part of the room,
where he was beyond the range of lamp and firelight. Standing here,
he pressed his hand against his side, still breathing hard, and with
difficulty suppressing a groan.

He came a step or two nearer.

'Mother,' he said, hurriedly, 'I am still far from well. Let me