“No, no, I tell you,” said Fairfax. “On the contrary, what Paul wants is to turn his back upon kings and aristocracies, to give up civilisation altogether, for that matter, and found a new world in the backwoods. We’ve all played with the notion. It sounds fine; and then there’s one eloquent fellow--a real orator, mind you--who makes it look like the grandest thing in the world to do. I believe he thinks it is, and so does Paul. He’s gone wrong in his head on the subject; that is all that is wrong with him. But there is this difference,” said Fairfax reflectively, “from going wrong that way and--other ways. If you prove yourself an ass in the common form, you’re sorry and ashamed of yourself, and glad to make it up with your people at home; but when it’s this sort of thing you stand on your high principles and will not give in. That’s one difference between being viewy and--the other. Paul can’t make up his mind to give in; and then probably he thinks they are making the very most of his father’s illness in order to work upon his feelings. Well! he ought to know better,” cried Fairfax, with a flush of indignation; “Lady Markham is not the sort of person to be suspected in that way; but you know the kind of ideas that are general. He makes himself fancy so, I suppose.” “He seems a nice sort of young fellow to come into this fine property,” said Gus, with another sidelong, inquisitive look at Fairfax. There was an air of keen curiosity, and at the same time of sarcastic enjoyment, on his face. “That is the strange thing about it,” said Fairfax reflectively stroking the visionary moustache which very lightly adorned his lip. “Paul is a very queer fellow. He is against the idea of property. He thinks it should all be re-divided and every man have his share. And, what’s stranger still,” he added, with an exclamation, “he’s the fellow to do it if he had the chance. There is nothing sham about him. He would strip himself of everything as easily as I would throw off a coat.” “Against the idea of property!” said little Gus, with a very odd expression. He gave a long whistle of surprise and apparent discomfiture. “He must be a very queer fellow indeed,” he said, with an air of something like disappointment. Why should he have been disappointed? But this was what no one, however intimately acquainted with the circumstances, could have told. “Yes, he is a very queer fellow. He has a great deal in him. One thing that makes me a little uncomfortable,” continued Fairfax, unconsciously falling more and more into a confidential tone, “is that I don’t know how he may take my being here.” “How should he take it? you are his friend, you said?”