r
Gerald nor I are the stuff that bishops are made of," he added,
laughing. "I hope you don't dream of any such honour for me."

But the Squire was too troubled in his mind for laughter. "Jack was
always clever, too," he said, dolefully, "and little good has come of
that. I hope he won't disgrace the family any more than he has done, in
my time, Frank. You young fellows have all your life before you; but
when a man comes to my age, and expects a little comfort, it's hard to
be dragged into the mire after his children. I did my duty by Jack
too--I can say that for myself. He had the same training as Gerald
had--the same tutor at the university--everything just the same. How do
you account for that, sir, you that are a philosopher?" said Mr
Wentworth again, with a touch of irritation. "Own brothers both by
father and mother; brought up in the same house, same school and college
and everything; and all the time as different from each other as light
and darkness. How do you account for that? Though, to be sure, here's
Gerald taken to bad ways too. It must have been some weakness by their
mother's side. Poor girl! she died too young to show it herself; but
it's come out in her children," said the vexed Squire. "Though it's a
poor sort of thing to blame them that are gone," he added, with
penitence; and he got up and paced uneasily about the room. Who was
there else to blame? Not himself, for he had done his duty by his boys.
Mr Wentworth never was disturbed in mind, without, as his family were
well aware, becoming excited in temper too; and the unexpected nature of
the new trouble had somehow added a keener touch of exasperation to his
perennial dissatisfaction with his heir. "If Jack had been the man he
ought to have been, his advice might have done some good--for a
clergyman naturally sees things in a different light from a man of the
world," said the troubled father; and Frank perceived that he too shared
in his father's displeasure, because he was not Jack, nor a man of the
world; notwithstanding that, being Frank and a clergyman, he was
acknowledged by public opinion to be the Squire's favourite in the
family. Things continued in this uncomfortable state up to the
dinner-hour, so that the Curate, even had his own feelings permitted it,
had but little comfort in his home visit. At dinner Mr Wentworth did not
eat, and awoke the anxiety of his wife, who drove the old gentleman into
a state of desperation by inquiries after