knowledge,--that would not have puzzled me so much, seeing the life
of labor he has led,--but I go on asking myself what has become of his
former self, of which not a trace nor vestige remains? Where is his
shy, hesitating manner, his pedantry, his suspicion,--where the intense
eagerness to learn what was going on in the house? You remember how his
prying disposition used to worry us?"

"I remember," said she, in a low voice.

"There is something, now, in his calm, quiet deportment very like
dignity. I protest I should--seeing him for the first time--call him a
well-bred man."

"Certainly," said she, in the same tone.

"As little was I prepared for the frank and open manner in which he
spoke to me of himself."

"Has he done so?" asked she, with some animation.

"Yes; with much candor, and much good sense too. He sees the obstacles
he has surmounted in life, and he just as plainly perceives those that
are not to be overcome."

"What may these latter be?" asked she, cautiously.

"It is pretty obvious what they are," said he, half pettishly,--"his
family; his connections; his station, in fact."

"How did he speak of these,--in what terms, I mean?"

"Modestly and fairly. He did not conceal what he owned to feel as
certain hardships, but he was just enough to acknowledge that our social
system was a sound one, and worked well."

"It was a great admission," said she, with a very faint smile.

"The Radical crept out only once," said the old Lord, laughing at the
recollection. "It was when I remarked that an ancient nobility, like
a diamond, required centuries of crystallization to give it lustre and
coherence. 'It were well to bear in mind, my Lord,' said he, 'that it
began by being only charcoal.'"

She gave a low, quiet laugh, but said nothing.

"He has very sound notions in many things,--very sound, indeed. I wish,
with all my heart, that more of the class he belongs to were animated
with _his_ sentiments. He is no advocate for pulling down; moderate,
reasonable changes,--changes in conformity with the spirit of the age,
in fact,--these he advocates. As I have already said, Gusty, these men
are only dangerous when our own exclusiveness has made them so. Treat
them fairly, admit them to your society, listen to their arguments,
refute them, show them where they have mistaken us, and they are _not_
dangerous."

"I suppose you are right," said she, musingly.

"Another thing astonishes me: he has no pride o