y for
a moment, in despair. He found in his tortured spirit energies
that responded to the exigency of the occasion. Even the otherwise
embarrassing presence of Gerard would not have prevented--but just at
this moment the door opened, and Morley and another person entered the
room.

Book 4 Chapter 9

Morley paused as he recognised Egremont; then advancing to Gerard,
followed by his companion, he said, "This is Mr Hatton of whom we were
speaking last night, and who claims to be an ancient acquaintance of
yours."

"Perhaps I should rather say of your poor dear father," said Hatton,
scanning Gerard with his clear blue eye, and then he added, "He was
of great service to me in my youth, and one is not apt to forget such
things."

"One ought not," said Gerard: "but it is a sort of memory, as I have
understood, that is rather rare. For my part I remember you very
well, Baptist Hatton," said Gerard, examining his guest with almost as
complete a scrutiny as he had himself experienced. "This world has gone
well with you, I am glad to hear and see."

"Qui laborat, orat," said Hatton in a silvery voice, "is the gracious
maxim of our Holy Church; and I venture to believe my prayers and vigils
have been accepted, for I have laboured in my time," and as he was
speaking these words, he turned and addressed them to Sybil.

She beheld him with no little interest; this mysterious name that had
sounded so often in her young ears, and was associated with so many
strange and high hopes, and some dark blending of doubt and apprehension
and discordant thoughts. Hatton in his appearance realised little of the
fancies in which Sybil had sometime indulged with regard to him. That
appearance was prepossessing: a frank and even benevolent expression
played upon his intelligent and handsome countenance: his once rich
brown hair, still long though very thin, was so arranged as naturally
to conceal his baldness; he was dressed with great simplicity, but with
remarkable taste and care: nor did the repose and suavity of his manner
and the hushed tone of his voice detract from the favourable effect that
he always at once produced.

"Qui laborat, orat," said Sybil with a smile, "is the privilege of the
people."

"Of whom I am one," said Hatton bowing, well recollecting that he was
addressing the daughter of a chartist delegate.

"But is your labour, their labour," said Sybil. "Is yours that life of
uncomplaining toil wherein there is so