Lawrence had
gone to New York. The young man"--

Jack held his breath, and there was a strange flutter at his heart.
After all these years he saw again the pale, handsome child who had
given him a boy's ardent love.

"I have a fancy that he will not amount to much. Queer idea that of
Cameron's, wasn't it, Darcy? Who was it that first preached or wrote of
the 'duty nearest one'? Of course things cannot stay this way forever,
they must mend; and maybe if some one took hold to help mend
them--Cameron's idea is not a bad one. Maybe the same amount of money
and energy expended here would be productive of good results: still I
hold on to Florida for my poor and wretched suffering ones. But it is
worth thinking of. Here, let us turn round by Hope Mills."

Jack was silent. "Hope Mills!" It rang through his brain like a chime of
bells. Of course he knew that Mr. Hope had given them his name; but had
he builded better than he knew? Was it indicative of something greater
than the power of one man,--of many men? of strong, earnest endeavor;
of truth, honor, and honesty; of thrift, and happy, jocund industry,
once more?

But now it was very silent. The great yard had an untidy look, with some
piles of weather-beaten lumber, and old _debris_. The windows were
covered with dust; the broad stone steps showed where the winter snows
had fallen and melted, leaving streaks of dirt, and more had blown in
the corners. No cheerful creak of the great engine; no vapory puffs of
smoke circling skyward from the chimney; no whir of looms. It saddened
one inexpressibly.

"It is a big subject," said Jack slowly. "I've been puzzling my brains
half the winter with what wiser heads than mine have said about capital
and labor,--Mill and Brassey and Howell, and our own men, with soft,
sweet bits of Ruskin, and savage bits of Carlyle. I don't know but
Carlyle was right when he said, 'The beginning and the end of what is
the matter with us, in these days, is, that we have forgotten God.'
Cameron said it another way,--honor and honesty. Because, certainly,
honor appeals to all that is noblest in human nature,--to chivalry, and
tenderness and thought for others; and nothing ever prospered, in the
long-run, that did not have a substratum of truth."

"Well, according to Bristow, we came back to him this winter--not I,
Darcy, I don't make any pretence,"--and he shook his head with slow
gravity. "But I was interested in the revival on psychological groun