What kind of woman will be the question. Alas for those, whether high or low or in the middle, whose business in life has been to be ladies! What poor, mean, draggled, unangelic things will come crawling out of the husk they are leaving behind them, which yet, perhaps, will show a glimmer, in the whiteness of death, of what they were meant to be, if only they had lived, had been, had put forth the power that was in them as their birthright!

Not a few I know will crawl out such, except they awake from the dead, and cry for life. Perhaps one and another in the next world will say to me, “You meant me! I know now why you were always saying such things!” For I suspect the next world will more plainly be a going on with this than most people think—only it will be much better for some, and much worse for others, as the Lord has taught us in the parable of the rich man and the beggar.

“No, Richard,” resumed his aunt, “your father was not a good man, but he may be better now, and perhaps you will help him to be better still.”

“It is doubtful I will get such a chance,” returned Richard. “We’ve had a pretty fair quarrel already!”

“He can’t take your birthright from you!” she cried.

“That may be—but what is my birthright? He told me the land was not entailed—he can leave it to anyone he likes. But I’m not going to do what he would have me do—that is, if it be wrong,” he added, not willing to start questions about the Mansons at the moment. “To be a sneak would be a fine beginning! If that’s to be a gentleman, I will be no gentleman!”

“Right you are, my son!” said Tuke, who that moment came in.

“Oh, uncle!” cried Richard, jumping to his feet.

“Uncle! Ho! ho! What’s up now?”

“Nothing’s up, but all’s out, father,” answered Richard. “You knew, and now I know. How shall I ever thank you for what you have done for me, and been to me, and given me!”

“Precious little, my boy! I wish it had been a great deal more.”

“Shall I tell you what you have done for me? You made a man of me first, by giving me a trade and making me independent. Then again, by that trade you taught me to love the very shape of a book. Baronet or no baronet—”

“What do you mean?”

“My father threatens to disown me.”

“He can’t take your rank from you. We’ll have you sir Richard anyhow! And I’d let them see that a true baronet—”

“—is just a true man, uncle!” interposed Richard, “and that you’ve helped to make me. Being independent and helping others, not being a baronet, will make a gentleman of me. That’s how it goes in the true world, anyhow.”

“The true world! Where’s that?” rejoined Tuke.

“And that reminds me of another precious thing you’ve given me,” Richard went on. “You’ve taught me to think for myself.”