“Indeed, none better,” said Rockhurst, absently. The lady glanced at him sidelong. Her comely face took an air of indecision, almost of timidity, foreign to the massive severity of its lines. Something she had on her mind, that yet she feared to utter. But lack of courage could never be the failing of a Rockhurst. “And, indeed, my lord, so long as you keep the lad mewed up here, as if he were a girl, ’tis not to be expected that he should get rid of such like maggots in his head. Why, the town’s the place for a gallant young gentleman like Harry. Your only son, my lord, your heir! Think on it. Why, Court’s the place for him, and you so rarely in his Majesty’s favour! He’d sing another song there, I warrant you.” Once again the father’s face grew dark. “’Tis my bird, sister; I’ll have him sing the song I choose.” “But surely, brother,” argued the doughty lady, scarlet in the face, “with you to watch over him, with your example—” “With my example!” He turned suddenly and fiercely on his sister: “No, by the Lord, not even with such valuable aid as that, will I trust my fine lad into that sink—that charnel-house—that pit! Ah, you think yourself so wise, and prate of what you know not—poor innocent old country virgin. I tell thee, woman, the taint is in the very air. Eyes, ears, nay, every pore, are channels for the poison—” “Brother!” ejaculated Mistress Rockhurst, huffed and startled. But Rockhurst proceeded, his eyes fixed more as if talking to himself than to her:— “There, shame grows dearer than merit—vice becomes as a cloak, warm and soft, in which a man takes comfort. At the mere thought of cold virtue, of stern duty, of naked purity, ugh! we shiver and hug ourselves—” His sister gave a faint, shocked cry, and flung out her hand:— “But not you, not you, my lord! Surely these are strange words.” “Harry shall be a man of better stuff,” the father cried. “He’s wholesome now, body and soul, and by the Lord, I say, I’ll keep him so! How now, Alicia, shall I not have pure-blooded, pure-hearted grandchildren, an I have the mind?” For some unknown reason the excellent lady took deep umbrage at this last remark. “Surely, surely!” she repeated, tossing her head, so that her grey curls danced. “So let it be, then,” bade her brother. Then, in a changed voice he exclaimed:— “Hush, now, here comes the country widow. Faith, the lad hath taste.” But here he fell suddenly silent and sprang up. Mistress Rockhurst, surveying him in some anxiety, marked the extraordinary change that came over his countenance.