In England, gentlemen's sons did not make friends of grocerymen, and it
seemed to him a rather singular proceeding. It would be very awkward if
the child had bad manners and a disposition to like low company. One of
the bitterest humiliations of the old Earl's life had been that his two
elder sons had been fond of low company. Could it be, he thought,
that this boy shared their bad qualities instead of his father's good
qualities?

He was thinking uneasily about this as he talked to Mrs. Errol until the
child came into the room. When the door opened, he actually hesitated
a moment before looking at Cedric. It would, perhaps, have seemed very
queer to a great many people who knew him, if they could have known the
curious sensations that passed through Mr. Havisham when he looked down
at the boy, who ran into his mother's arms. He experienced a revulsion
of feeling which was quite exciting. He recognized in an instant that
here was one of the finest and handsomest little fellows he had ever
seen.

His beauty was something unusual. He had a strong, lithe, graceful
little body and a manly little face; he held his childish head up, and
carried himself with a brave air; he was so like his father that it was
really startling; he had his father's golden hair and his mother's
brown eyes, but there was nothing sorrowful or timid in them. They were
innocently fearless eyes; he looked as if he had never feared or doubted
anything in his life.

"He is the best-bred-looking and handsomest little fellow I ever saw,"
was what Mr. Havisham thought. What he said aloud was simply, "And so
this is little Lord Fauntleroy."