She found the tutor, Giles Inglett (_vulgo_, Jingles) Saltren, in the room with the boy. Little Giles had a Noah’s Ark on the table, and was trying to make the animals stand on their infirm legs, in procession, headed by the dove which was as large as the dog, and half the size of the elephant. Mr. Saltren sat by the window looking forth disconsolately. The child had a heavy cold, accompanied by some fever. “If you wish to leave the school-room, Mr. Saltren,” said Arminell, “I am prepared to occupy your place with the captive.” “I thank you, Miss Inglett,” answered the tutor. “But I have strict orders to go through the devotional exercises with Giles this afternoon, the same as this morning.” “I will take them for you.” “You are most kind in offering, but having been set my tale of bricks to make without straw, I am not justified in sending another into the clayfield, in my room.” “I see—this is a house of bondage to you, Mr. Saltren. You hinted this morning that you meditated an _in exitu Israel de Egypto_.” The young man coloured. “You tread too sharply on the heels of the _pied de la lettre_, Miss Inglett.” “But you feel this, though you shrink from the expression of your thoughts. You told me yourself this forenoon that you were not happy. If you leave us, whither do you propose going?” “A journey in the wilderness for forty years.” “With what Land of Promise in view?” “I have set none before me.” “None? I cannot credit that. Every man has his Land of Promise towards which he turns his face. Why leave the leeks and onions of Goshen, if you have but a stony desert in view as your pasture? I suppose the heart is a binnacle with its needle pointing to the pole—though each man may have a different pole. South of the equator, the needle points reversedly to what it pointed north of it. An anchor, an iron link, a nail even may divert the needle, but to something it must turn.” “Miss Inglett—had Moses any personal hope to reach and establish himself in the land flowing with milk and honey, when he led Israel from the brick-kilns? He was to die within sight of the land, and not to set foot thereon.” “But, Mr. Saltren; who are your Israel? Where are the brick-kilns? Who are the oppressors?” “Can you ask?” The tutor paused and looked at the girl. “But I suppose you fail to see that the whole of the civilised world is an Egypt, in which some are task-masters and others slaves; some enjoy and others suffer. Miss Inglett—you have somehow invited my confidence, and I cannot withhold it. It is quite impossible that the world can go on as it has been, with one class drawing to itself all that life has to offer of happiness, and another class doomed to toil and hunger and sweat, and have nothing of the light and laughter of life.” Arminell seated herself.