independence somehow, and support my mother."

VANCE.--"Your mother is supported: she has the pension--"

LIONEL.--"Of a captain's widow; and" (he added with a flushed cheek) "a
first floor that she lets to lodgers."

VANCE.--"No shame in that! Peers let houses; and on the Continent,
princes let not only first floors, but fifth and sixth floors, to say
nothing of attics and cellars. In beginning the world, friend Lionel, if
you don't wish to get chafed at every turn, fold up your pride carefully,
put it under lock and key, and only let it out to air upon grand
occasions. Pride is a garment all stiff brocade outside, all grating
sackcloth on the side next to the skin. Even kings don't wear the
dalmaticum except at a coronation. Independence you desire; good. But
are you dependent now? Your mother has given you an excellent education,
and you have already put it to profit. My dear boy," added Vance, with
unusual warmth, "I honour you; at your age, on leaving school, to have
shut yourself up, translated Greek and Latin per sheet for a bookseller,
at less than a valet's wages, and all for the purpose of buying comforts
for your mother; and having a few pounds in your own pockets, to rove
your little holiday with me and pay your share of the costs! Ah, there
are energy and spirit and life in all that, Lionel, which will found upon
rock some castle as fine as any you have built in air. Your hand, my
boy."

This burst was so unlike the practical dryness, or even the more unctuous
humour, of Frank Vance, that it took Lionel by surprise, and his voice
faltered as he pressed the hand held out to him. He answered, "I don't
deserve your praise, Vance, and I fear the pride you tell me to put under