do you think it right," said Ethel, "to care for distinction? It
is a great thing to earn it, but I don't think one should care for the
outer glory."

"I believe it is a great temptation," said Alan. "The being over-elated
or over-depressed by success or failure in the eyes of the world,
independently of the exertion we have used."

"You call it a temptation?" said Ethel.

"Decidedly so."

"But one can't live or get on without it," said Norman.

There they were cut short. There was a plantation to be crossed, with a
gate that would not open, and that seemed an effectual barrier against
both Miss Winter and the donkey, until by persuasive eloquence and great
gallantry, Mr. Ernescliffe performed the wonderful feat of getting the
former over the tall fence, while Norman conducted the donkey a long way
round, undertaking to meet them at the other side of the plantation.

The talk became desultory, as they proceeded for at least a mile along
a cart-track through soft-tufted grass and heath and young fir-trees.
It ended in a broad open moor, stony; and full of damp boggy hollows,
forlorn and desolate under the autumn sky. Here they met Norman again,
and walked on along a very rough and dirty road, the ground growing
more decidedly into hills and valleys as they advanced, till they found
themselves before a small, but very steep hillock, one side of which was
cut away into a slate quarry. Round this stood a colony of roughly-built
huts, of mud, turf, or large blocks of the slate. Many workmen were
engaged in splitting up the slates, or loading wagons with them, rude
wild-looking men, at the sight of whom the ladies shrank up to their
protectors, but who seemed too busy even to spare time for staring at
them.

They were directed to John Taylor's house, a low mud cottage, very
wretched looking, and apparently so smoky that Mr. Ernescliffe and
Norman were glad to remain outside and survey the quarry, while the
ladies entered.

Inside they found more cleanliness and neatness than they had expected,
but there was a sad appearance of poverty, insufficient furniture, and
the cups and broken tea-pot on the table, holding nothing but toast and
water, as a substitute for their proper contents. The poor woman was
sitting by the fire with one twin on her lap, and the other on a chair
by her side, and a larger child was in the corner by the fire, looking
heavy and ill, while others of different ages lounged about listlessly.
She