ty is oftener acquired than inherited. As a
rule, the girl's surroundings safeguard her from the acquisition; but
when they do not, she becomes as bad as the boy. The boy, on the
contrary, especially if he is sent to a public school, is
systematically trained to be vicious. He learns the Latin grammar from
his masters, and from the habitual conversation of the other boys,
the books secretly circulated by them, and their traditional code of
vice, he becomes familiarised with the most hoggish habits. He may
escape the practical initiation by a miracle at the time; but it is
from the mind familiar with ideas of vice that the vicious impulse
eventually springs; and the seed of corruption once sown in it, bears
fruit almost inevitably.

Alfred had escaped this contamination by being kept at home at a
day-school, and when Beth knew him he was as refined and high-minded
as he was virile for his age, and as self-restrained as she was
impetuous. She wanted to hurry on, and shape their lives; but he was
content to let things come about. She lived in the future, he in the
present; and he was teaching her to do the same, which was an
excellent thing for her. Often when she was making plans he would
check her by saying, "Aren't you satisfied? I can't imagine myself
happier than I am at this moment."

One thing neither of them ever anticipated, and that was interference.
They expected those happy days to last without interruption until the
happier ones came, when they should be independent, and could do as
they liked.

"When I am king, diddle, diddle, you shall be queen," Alfred used to
sing to Beth; "and Dicksie shall be prime minister."

One night they were out in the fields together. Beth was sitting on a
rail, with her arm round Dicksie's neck, as he stood on one side of
her; Alfred being on the other, with his arm round her, supporting
her. They were talking about flowers. Alfred was great on growing
flowers. The vicar had given him a piece of the vicarage garden for
his own, and he was going to build a little green-house to keep Beth
well supplied with bouquets. They were deeply engrossed in the
subject, and the night was exceedingly dark, so that they did not
notice a sailor creep stealthily up the field behind them on the other
side of the hedge, and crouch down near enough to hear all that they
said. Certainly that sailor was never more at sea in his life than he
was while he listened to their innocent prattle.

When