‘True. If I were a philosopher I should overcome all that. However, my prejudice is good in one way; it enables me thoroughly to understand the detestation with which they regard me and the like of me. If I had been born one of them I should be the most savage anarchist. The moral is, that I must hold apart. Perhaps I shall grow cooler in time.’ The special causes of prejudice were quite as strong on the side of the workmen; Hubert might have been far less aristocratic in bearing, they would have disliked him as cordially. Most of them took it as a wanton outrage that they should be driven from the homes in which they had believed themselves settled for life. The man Redgrave--he of the six feet two who had presented the address to Mutimer--was a powerful agent of ill-feeling; during the first few days he was constantly gathering impromptu meetings in New Wanley and haranguing them violently on the principles of Socialism. But in less than a week he had taken his departure, and the main trouble seemed at an end. Mrs. Eldon was so impatient to return to the Manor that a room was prepared for her as soon as possible, and she came from her house at Agworth before Mutimer had been gone a week. Through the summer her strength had failed rapidly; it was her own conviction that she could live but a short time longer. The extreme agitation caused by the discovery of the will had visibly enfeebled her; it was her one desire to find herself once more in her old home, and there to breathe her last. The journey from Agworth cost her extreme suffering; she was prostrate, almost lifeless, for three days after it. But her son’s society revived her. Knowing him established in his family possessions, she only cared to taste for a little while this unhoped-for joy. Lying on a couch in her familiar chamber, she delighted to have flowers brought to her from the garden, even leaves from the dear old trees, every one of which she knew as a friend. But she had constant thought for those upon whose disaster her own happiness was founded; of Adela she spoke often. ‘What will become of that poor child?’ she asked one evening, when Hubert had been speaking of Rodman’s impracticable attitude, and of the proceedings Mutimer was about to take. ‘Do you know anything of her life, Hubert?’ ‘I met her in the wood here a few weeks ago,’ he replied, mentioning the incident for the first time. ‘She wanted to make a Socialist of me.’ ‘Was that after the will came to light?’ ‘The day after. She pleaded for New Wanley--hoped I should keep it up.’ ‘Then she has really accepted her husband’s views?’ ‘It seems so. I am afraid she thought me an obstinate tyrant.’ He spoke carelessly. ‘But she must not suffer, dear. How can they be helped?’