you. You hug
yourself because you resisted other temptation? Coward! it was because
you dared not run the risk of the wrong. Out with your peacock's
plumage! walk off in the feathers which Nature gave you, and thank
Heaven they are not altogether black." In a word, Aunt Honeyman was a
kind soul, and such was the splendour of Clive's father, of his gifts,
his generosity, his military services, and companionship of the battles,
that the lad did really appear a young duke to her. And Mrs. Newcome
was not unkind: and if Clive had been really a young duke, I am sure
he would have had the best bedroom at Marble Hill, and not one of the
far-off little rooms in the boys' wing; I am sure he would have had
jellies and Charlottes Russes, instead of mere broth, chicken, and
batter-pudding, as fell to his lot; and when he was gone (in the
carriage, mind you, not in the gig driven by a groom), I am sure Mrs.
Newcome would have written a letter that night to Her Grace the Duchess
Dowager his mamma, full of praise of the dear child, his graciousness,
his beauty, and his wit, and declaring that she must love him henceforth
and for ever after as a son of her own. You toss down the page with
scorn, and say, "It is not true. Human nature is not so bad as this
cynic would have it to be. You would make no difference between the
rich and the poor." Be it so. You would not. But own that your next-door
neighbour would. Nor is this, dear madam, addressed to you; no, no, we
are not so rude as to talk about you to your face; but if we may not
speak of the lady who has just left the room, what is to become of
conversation and society?

We forbear to describe the meeting between the Colonel and his son--the
pretty boy from whom he had parted more than seven years before with
such pangs of heart; and of whom he had thought ever since with such a
constant longing affection. Half an hour after the father left the boy,
and in his grief and loneliness was rowing back to shore, Clive was at
play with a dozen of other children on the sunny deck of the ship. When
two bells rang for their dinner, they were all hurrying to the cuddy
table, and busy over their meal. What a sad repast their parents had
that day! How their hearts followed the careless young ones home across
the great ocean! Mothers' prayers go with them. Strong men, alone on
their knees, with streaming eyes and broken accents, implore Heaven for
those little ones, who were prattling at their si