Now-a-days, certainly, it was not any luxurious leisure and blessedness that dwelt there; but care and doubt, such as would have been consistent with very sombre surroundings. Lucy sat and knitted, her mind wandering after Arthur, trying to imagine the brightest winter weather in Paris, and her brother enjoying himself, instead of the rainy skies here, the muddy roads and grey miserable day. Lady Curtis was in her chair by the window for the sake of the light, busy with her crewels. “They may say what they like about the higher art of these subdued tints,” she said, “but nature is not subdued in her tints. How am I to do the autumn leaves in those tones of colour? They are high and bright in nature.” She said this, but she was thinking of Arthur all the time; and by and by Sir John came in from the library, and strolled up to the fire. “Have not you had tea yet?” he said, putting himself in front, between the Cupids. “I thought you must be having tea. What a dreary afternoon it is! and the hounds are out. They must be having a disagreeable run.” Thus he discoursed with his lips; but in his heart his thoughts were of Arthur too. “Lucy has been in the village, though it has been so wet. She says there is a very sad commotion going on. Young Jack Hodge, the blacksmith’s son--tell your papa, Lucy,” said Lady Curtis with a sigh. “I don’t think it is so very bad,” said Lucy, getting up to make the tea which had just been brought in. “And I am sure papa will not think so; but his mother is making a great fuss. She has got the Dissenting minister over from Oakenden to comfort her; and to hear him speak, you would think it was very bad indeed.” “What has happened,” said Sir John, “and why did not Bertie go?” “Oh, Bertie, papa! what is the good of Bertie? There is a look in his nose as if he smelt something disagreeable whenever he goes into one of the cottages. The people cannot put up with it, and why should they? I think the Dissenter was better on the whole. Jack has gone for a soldier, that is all. I tried to say there was nothing so very dreadful in that; but they would not listen to me.” “That is all the fault of your Dissenters,” said Sir John, “why shouldn’t the lad go for a soldier? They would do away with poor people altogether, these Dissenters if they could--and soldiers too I suppose. They would leave us all defenceless, at the mercy of anybody that chooses to make a run at us. They never have anything themselves. I suppose that is the reason why.” “Well, that is not bad logic,” said Lady Curtis, “I suppose they think those who have something to lose should defend themselves;” and she sighed again, thinking, where was the son of her own house, who was its natural defender? He was worse than Jack Hodge, who, at least, might be of use to his country even if he did break his mother’s heart.