“It seems to me that honorable birth, talent, and pure morals, should form the aristocracy of a great nation—these are personal attributes which cannot be attained by accident or dishonesty, as money is often acquired.” Mrs. Lambert made an impatient movement with her hand. “It is useless arguing, Ivon. Class must be distinguished as we find it. The Lamberts have no need to doubt their position in any country. Be careful not to imperil it by too open attentions to the girl I have been speaking of.” “But, mother, she is refined and beautiful.” “So much the more dangerous.” “Thoroughly educated, accomplished, even.” “Perhaps! How am I to know?” “You have seen her, heard her speak.” “Yes, I have seen that she is dangerously beautiful; heard her speak with shrinking, that seemed almost repulsion. Ivon! Ivon! let me never hear of her again!” “How can you be so prejudiced, mother, knowing so little of the poor girl?” “How much can you know, Ivon?” “Everything. I have taken pains to inquire.” “Knowing that she was a shop-girl, what more did you wish to learn?” “All that could be told.” “Well, what _did_ you learn?” The lady spoke breathlessly, as if the subject pained her, and she was impatient to end it. “I learned who her parents were.” “Well?” “Her father was a policeman.” “A policeman! Well, what more?” “Who is dead. This girl is helping to support his widow and two other children, one a confirmed invalid. They are very poor.” “Then leave them in their poverty, I charge you.” Mrs. Lambert spoke with unusual warmth. The subject had disturbed her greatly. Something more deep and subtle than her indomitable pride had been touched, of which she was even herself unconscious. CHAPTER XXIX. MISS SPICER. A card was brought into the dainty boudoir in which Mrs. Lambert was conversing with her son. This was followed so quickly by Miss Lucy Spicer, that there was no possibility of refusing her admission, even if the occupants of the room had desired it. But her presence was welcome to the lady, for she arose promptly to receive her guest, glad to escape a subject which was hateful to her. “Looking younger and more lovely than ever!” exclaimed Miss Spicer, after kissing the lady with enthusiasm. “I wonder if it will be possible for me to grow handsomer as I grow older? Of course not. It’s only one or two women in a generation that can do that.” Here Miss Spicer seemed to become suddenly aware of Ivon’s presence, and addressed him. “Now this is a treat, Mr. Lambert; one never expects to find you at home; but here, with mamma, in this bijou of a room, is a surprise. Come, now, let us make up before the maternal ancestor. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t, for the life of me, help seeing you, and that abominably handsome shop-girl. Why didn’t you take a back street?”