face, found nothing in this world so
pleasant as to see Pitt eat his breakfast, and nothing in the world so
important to do as to furnish him with satisfactory material. Yet she
was not a foolish woman, and preserved all the time her somewhat
stately presence and manner; it was in little actions and words now and
then that this care for her son's indulgence and delight in it made
itself manifest. It was manifest enough to the two who sat at breakfast
with her; Mr. Dallas observing it with a secret smile, his son with a
grateful swelling of the heart, which a glance and a word sometimes
conveyed to his mother. Mrs. Dallas's contentment this morning was
absolute and unqualified. There could be no doubt what Betty Frere
would think, she said to herself. Every quality that ought to grace a
young man, she thought she saw embodied before her. The broad brow, and
the straight eyebrow, and the firm lips, expressed what was congenial
to Mrs. Dallas's soul; a mingling of intelligence and will, well
defined, clear and strong; but also sweet. There was thoughtfulness but
no shadow in the fine hazel eyes; no cloud on the brow; and the smile
when it came was frank and affectionate. His manner pleased Mrs. Dallas
infinitely; it had all the finish of the best breeding, and she was
able to recognise this.

'What are you going to be, Pitt?' his father broke in upon some
laughing talk that was going on between mother and son.

'To be, sir? I beg your pardon!'

'After you have done with Oxford, or with your college course. You know
I intend you to study for a profession. Which profession would you
choose?'

Pitt was silent.

'Have you ever thought about it?'

'Yes, sir. I have thought about it.'

'What conclusion did you come to?'

'To none, yet,' the young man answered slowly. 'It must depend.'

'On what?

'Partly,--on what conclusion I come to respecting something else,' Pitt
went on in the same manner, which immediately fastened his mother's
attention.

'Perhaps you will go on and explain yourself,' said his father. 'It is
good that we should understand one another.'

Yet Pitt was silent.

'Is it anything private and secret?' his father asked, half laughing,
although with a touch of sharp curiosity in his look.

'Private--not secret,' Pitt answered thoughtfully, too busy with his
own thoughts to regard his father's manner. 'At least the conclusion
cannot be secret.'

'It might do no harm to discuss the subject,' sai