“Be assured, then, that these traits are not peculiar to any class. The virtues of the poor, like their sufferings, are more in evidence than in any other condition,--their lives are laid bare by poverty; but I feel assured people are better than we think them,--better than they know themselves.” “I 'm waiting to hear you tell me that I 'm richer too,” said Kellett, with a half-melancholy laugh,--“that I have an elegant credit in a bank somewhere, if I only knew where to draw upon it!” “There is this wealth in the heart of man, if he but knew how to profit by it: it is to teach us this lesson that great men have arisen from time to time. The poets, the warriors, the explorers, the great in science, set us all the same task, to see the world fair as it really is, to recognize the good around us, to subdue the erroneous thoughts that, like poisonous weeds, stifle the wholesome vegetation of our hearts, and to feel that the cause of humanity is our cause, its triumphs our triumphs, its losses our losses!” “It may be all as you say, Bella darling, but it's not the kind of world ever _I_ saw. I never knew men do anything but cheat each other and tell lies; and the hardest of it all,” added he, with a bitter sigh, “that, maybe, it is your own flesh and blood treats you worst!” This reflection announced the approach of gloomy thoughts. This was about the extent of any allusion he would ever make to his son, and Bella was careful not to confirm him in the feeling by discussing or opposing it. She understood his nature well. She saw that some fortunate incident or other, even time, might dissipate what had never been more than a mere prejudice, while, if reasoned with, he was certain to argue himself into the conviction that of all the rubs he had met in life his son Jack's conduct was the hardest and the worst. The long and painful silence that now ensued was at length broken by a loud knocking at the door of the cottage, a sound so unusual as to startle them both. “That's at _our_ door, Bella,” said he. “I wonder who it can be? Beecher couldn't come out this time of the night.” “There it is again,” said Bella, taking a light. “I 'll go and see who's there.” “No, let me go,” cried Kellett, taking the candle from her hand, and leaving the room with the firm step of a man about to confront a danger. “Captain Kellett lives here, does n't he?” said a tall young fellow, in the dress of a soldier in the Rifles. Kellett's heart sank heavily within him as he muttered a faint “Yes.” “I'm the bearer of a letter for him,” said the soldier, “from his son.” “From Jack!” burst out Kellett, unable to restrain himself. “How is he? Is he well?” “He's all right now; he was invalided after that explosion in the trenches, but he's all right again. We all suffered more or less on that night;” and his eyes turned half inadvertently towards one side, where Kellett now saw that an empty coat-sleeve was hanging.