"No, no," murmured the Major, "the circumstances of modern times are so different, don't you see?--an advanced civilization--a greater respect for human life. Napoleon the First did a good many queer things; but you would not get a monarch and a commander-in-chief to act as David and Joab acted now-a-days. Public opinion would be too strong for them. They would be afraid of the newspapers." "Was it anything very dreadful that you heard at the clubs three years ago?" asked Jessie, still hovering about a forbidden theme, with a morbid curiosity strange in one whose acts and thoughts were for the most part ruled by common sense. The Major, who would not allow a woman to read "Don Juan," had his own ideas of what ought and ought not to be told to a woman. "My dear Miss Bridgeman," he said, "I would not for worlds pollute your ears with the ribald trash men talk in a club smoking-room. Let it suffice for you to know that I believe in Angus Hamleigh, although I have taken the trouble to make myself acquainted with the follies of his youth." They walked on in silence for a little while after this, and then the Major said, in a voice full of kindness: "I think you went to see your own people yesterday, did you not?" "Yes; Mrs. Tregonell was kind enough to give me a morning, and I spent it with my mother and sisters." The Major had questioned her more than once about her home, in a way which indicated so kindly an interest that it could not possibly be mistaken for idle curiosity. And she had told him, with perfect frankness, what manner of people her family were--in no wise hesitating to admit their narrow means, and the necessity that she should earn her own living. "I hope you found them well and happy." "I thought my mother looked thin and weary. The girls were wonderfully well--great hearty, overgrown creatures! I felt myself a wretched little shrimp among them. As for happiness--well, they are as happy as people can expect to be who are very poor!" "Do you really think poverty is incompatible with happiness?" asked the Major, with a philosophical air; "I have had a particularly happy life, and I have never been rich." "Ah, that makes all the difference!" exclaimed Jessie. "You have never been rich, but they have always been poor. You can't conceive what a gulf lies between those two positions. You have been obliged to deny yourself a great many of the mere idle luxuries of life, I dare say--hunters, the latest improvements in guns, valuable dogs, continental travelling; but you have had enough for all the needful things--for neatness, cleanliness, an orderly household; a well-kept flower-garden, everything spotless and bright about you; no slipshod maid-of-all-work printing her greasy thumb upon your dishes--nothing out at elbows. Your house is small, but of its kind it is perfection; and your garden--well, if I had such a garden in such a situation I would not envy Eve the Eden she lost."