who his parents were. And
then he knew that if he told you he would never be asked here, and would
perhaps never see me again. And he wanted to see me. Who can blame him
for trying, by any means, to stay near me--the girl he loves? All is
fair in love. I have heard you say so yourself, papa; and you yourself
would have done just as he has--so would any man.'

'And any man, on discovering what I have discovered, would also do as I
do, and mend my mistake; that is, get shot of him again, as soon as the
laws of hospitality will allow.' But Mr. Swancourt then remembered that
he was a Christian. 'I would not, for the world, seem to turn him out
of doors,' he added; 'but I think he will have the tact to see that he
cannot stay long after this, with good taste.'

'He will, because he's a gentleman. See how graceful his manners are,'
Elfride went on; though perhaps Stephen's manners, like the feats
of Euryalus, owed their attractiveness in her eyes rather to the
attractiveness of his person than to their own excellence.

'Ay; anybody can be what you call graceful, if he lives a little time
in a city, and keeps his eyes open. And he might have picked up his
gentlemanliness by going to the galleries of theatres, and watching
stage drawing-room manners. He reminds me of one of the worst stories I
ever heard in my life.'

'What story was that?'

'Oh no, thank you! I wouldn't tell you such an improper matter for the
world!'

'If his father and mother had lived in the north or east of England,'
gallantly persisted Elfride, though her sobs began to interrupt her
articulation, 'anywhere but here--you--would have--only regarded--HIM,
and not THEM! His station--would have--been what--his profession makes
it,--and not fixed by--his father's humble position--at all; whom he
never lives with--now. Though John Smith has saved lots of money, and
is better off than we are, they say, or he couldn't have put his son
to such an expensive profession. And it is clever and--honourable--of
Stephen, to be the best of his family.'

'Yes. "Let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the
king's mess."'

'You insult me, papa!' she burst out. 'You do, you do! He is my own
Stephen, he is!'

'That may or may not be true, Elfride,' returned her father, again
uncomfortably agitated in spite of himself 'You confuse future
probabilities with present facts,--what the young man may be with what
he is. We must look at what he is, not wha