“What is worthy work? I don’t want to work at all. It is perfectly true: I think it my duty to be idle; but that is what they don’t understand, nor you either, Madeline. I can find a thousand things to do which are not work, but which occupy me. I ought not to do anything else if I am to fulfil my _rôle_ of a rich man’s son.” “Gervase, I know what you mean; but it sounds a little fantastic, don’t you think--at least to their ears?” “Perhaps; they are of their generation, and we are of ours,” said the young man. He was not proud, not to call proud, though he was conscious of occupying a higher standing-ground than “they” did. “They” were the parents--the older set--whose views were exploded, and their prejudices old-fashioned; but whom, nevertheless, both these young people felt it to be their duty to respect. After a little interval he began to tell her what his mission was to be. The house had certain property in the West Indies, from which for many years no profit had been obtained. This was chiefly in consequence of the condition into which the islands had fallen; but partly also because Mr Burton himself had never had the time to look into the matter, to set things right on the spot, which it appeared was the right way. To get a proper account of all that the respective agents--changed from time to time, but each falling back into his predecessor’s ways--had been doing; to ascertain the real state of the property: how much its value had deteriorated, whether it was now really worth anything at all in a mere pecuniary point of view, was to be the mission of Gervase. The most high-minded could not say of it that it was an unworthy mission--nor could he deny that it was one which his father’s son was better qualified for than any stranger. And at the same time it was to be a test of his real mettle. If he did this well, why then, his father would yield a point, and his allowance at least be so far increased as to permit the young people to marry. And perhaps the pleasure of definite work, of accomplishing something which really wanted to be done--of sounding his own capabilities--might change his ideas about work altogether. This was perhaps what “they” most hoped. And Madeline hoped it too, though she said nothing, and though Gervase smiled a little at the idea of a well-considered decision of his own being so lightly done away with. They talked each other finally into a certain acceptance of this mission--finding that it was on the whole a thing rather fine than otherwise, to go off like an adventurer prince to recover the almost lapsed territory and emancipated subjects. “You may be able to throw some new light upon the subject of emancipation,” Madeline said: “if you could only find some means of rehabilitating poor Quashee, Gervase! and making him a human possibility again.” “There is no doubt great need of some independent opinion on that subject,” Gervase replied. This was a wonderful comfort to them, after they had