ur High Mightiness asks a question and gives permission
to speak? One of the great benefits which Harry Warrington received from
this family, before whose gate Fate had shot him, was to begin to learn
that he was a profoundly ignorant young fellow, and that there were many
people in the world far better than he knew himself to be. Arrogant
a little with some folks, in the company of his superiors he was
magnanimously docile. We have seen how faithfully he admired his brother
at home, and his friend, the gallant young Colonel of Mount Vernon: of
the gentlemen, his kinsmen at Castlewood, he had felt himself at least
the equal. In his new acquaintance at Oakhurst he found a man who had
read far more books than Harry could pretend to judge of, who had seen
the world and come unwounded out of it, as he had out of the dangers
and battles which he had confronted, and who had goodness and honesty
written on his face and breathing from his lips, for which qualities our
brave lad had always an instinctive sympathy and predilection.

As for the women, they were the kindest, merriest, most agreeable he had
as yet known. They were pleasanter than Parson Broadbent's black-eyed
daughter at home, whose laugh carried as far as a gun. They were quite
as well-bred as the Castlewood ladies, with the exception of Madam
Beatrix (who, indeed, was as grand as an empress on some occasions).
But somehow, after a talk with Madam Beatrix, and vast amusement and
interest in her stories, the lad would come away as with a bitter taste
in his mouth, and fancy all the world wicked round about him. They were
not in the least squeamish; and laughed over pages of Mr. Fielding, and
cried over volumes of Mr. Richardson, containing jokes and incidents
which would make Mrs. Grundy's hair stand on end, yet their merry
prattle left no bitterness behind it: their tales about this neighbour
and that were droll, not malicious; the curtseys and salutations with
which the folks of the little neighbouring town received them, how
kindly and cheerful! their bounties how cordial! Of a truth it is good
to be with good people. How good Harry Warrington did not know at the
time, perhaps, or until subsequent experience showed him contrasts, or
caused him to feel remorse. Here was a tranquil, sunshiny day of a life
that was to be agitated and stormy--a happy hour or two to remember.
Not much happened during the happy hour or two. It was only sweet sleep,
pleasant waking, frie