‘Wait till you see them,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘My dear little Cara, there is a great difference always between out-and-out professionals and--other people. A man may indulge in as much literature as he pleases, and it does him no harm--indeed, it may chance to do him a little good. But the people who have nothing but literature to stand upon, that’s a different thing altogether; they are generally people who are out of society. Ned, what are you going to do this morning? You don’t mean to say you are wasting your time like an ordinary mortal? You were supposed to have gone to Westminster Hall, or the British Museum, or at the very least, the London Library. See how cheaply some people get a character for virtue! and all the time, Cara, he was amusing himself and talking to you.’ ‘I am going to work now,’ said Edward. ‘Remember, this is the first chance I have had of seeing Cara. You are not to sit and think,’ he said softly, taking her hand. ‘Go to my mother, will you, Cara? Do not stay all the long morning here.’ ‘I shall not be--dull,’ she said, in the same tone, with a grateful, friendly look, which went to Edward’s heart. He was comforted, though he had to go away and leave the field clear for his brother, and did so without even the half-painful, half-compunctious feeling as of a grudge which he was ashamed of, which generally moved him when Oswald was concerned. Why should he entertain any grudge at his brother’s success? If Oswald was not more agreeable, more bright, more winning than himself, he would not be more popular. But, more than all these reasonings, with which he was familiar, Edward felt the consolation of those discriminating words by which Cara had indicated the difference between himself and his brother--he, who made her talk; Oswald, who talked of himself. This kept him warm all the way to Westminster Hall, or wherever else it was that he went to pursue his studies for the future government of India; but perhaps the way in which he had occupied the first hours of the morning did not make his mind more clear for this much more important subject of thought. ‘It is well that there should be one hard-working fellow in the family,’ said Oswald, as the door closed, ‘for the family’s sake; and then it is astonishing what a zest it gives to one’s own leisure--like--I suppose I must not quote Latin to you, Cara--like seeing a ship pitching and tossing at sea when one is safe on shore.’ ‘How can you say so! how dare you say so!’ cried Cara, with flashing eyes. ‘Oh, what is the good of your poetry and stuff if it only makes you enjoy the sight of another person working--doing what you ought to have done! Is that all the good it is? It ought to be something pure, something noble, something to make your heart rise----’ ‘Why, Cara!’ cried Oswald, aghast, yet half-laughing. ‘Poetry and stuff! is it you who are speaking, or someone else? This is quite a new outbreak for you.’