De Vaux’s affectionate heart was touched. He assured his mother that he hoped his father would still be spared, and trusted he might rally and resume some of his former habits. “In such a case, my dear mother,” he said, “do you think he would like to find me prematurely interfering with his plans, and overturning his arrangements, particularly when Anwell is the briskest, most trustworthy old fellow out. He has a greater knowledge of the capabilities of the estate, and of country interests, than even my father had—don’t be angry; I have often heard him say so—or, I need not add, than I am likely to acquire, though I live to the age of Methuselah, which God forbid. It must have been a heavy task for the oldest of the antediluvians to get along without the comfort of so much as a contemporary to share his penalties. No, no; ‘sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.’ We have Scripture authority for that, and I shall recommend the vicar to take the text for his homily next Sunday if you will fret about my future troubles. I shall think I am in your way if you are so anxious to get rid of me and my spare time. In order to bring about that, there ought to be a new crusade—quite enough in the unaccountable laziness of your son to justify that. Eh, mum?” He ended with a flash of youthful fun, which was some consolation to his mother for her failure. But she was more puzzled than ever. It was all De Vaux’s superior cultivation, ability, and good feeling which stood in the way, of course. There was a great deal of good taste, good sense, and good feeling in what he had said, especially in his reluctance to grasp the sceptre falling from his poor father’s hands. It was so different with Lady Netherby’s son, who was little better than an amateur coachman—in those days, too, when coaches had almost ceased to exist; or Lord Dorchester, who was a learned prig as well as a marquis; or young Ascham of Ryelands, who, as everybody knew, had sold himself to the Jews, and was eagerly anticipating his father’s death for his release. She recognised the difference thankfully. On the other hand, though she and her lord had been fairly polished, intelligent, well-disposed persons, she had not been, so to speak, “Too wise and good For human nature’s daily food;” and it was a little hard to have a son whose genius and virtue took this turn. But De Vaux was the product of the age.