Born in Exile

irst difficulties were surmounted, he wrote rapidly, and at considerable length. It was not easy, at his time o

excogitate ran thus: 'Family circumstances render it desirable-almost necessary-that I should spend the next twelve months in London. In spite of sincere reluctance to leave Whitelaw College, I am compelled to take this step.' The lady must interpret that as best she might. Very hard indeed was the task of begging a continuance of her bounty under these changed conditions. Could he but have resigned the money, all had been well; his tone might then have been dignified without effort. But

her, he told her what he had done, and read the let

k her sisters for an e

nt, she must be prepared to put them off in some way. But look here, mother, when uncle has opened his shop, it's pretty certain that

d question, the result of her anxieties rathe

te sure that his shop woul

n gave a pas

eat, and hearing his talk, and-? Not for

s voice shook with indignation at the sug

so alone in Lo

I aim at getting a place at the works in Rotherhithe, where he no doubt has influence. You see, mother, I migh

e to the same thing, then, if

gesture of

ambitious. Trust me for a year or two, and see the result. I depend upon your help in this whole affair. Don't refuse it

-bu

post this letter. I feel it will be successful. See aunt tomorrow, and get her support. Mind that Charlotte

ade her useless as a counsellor, and from no one else-now that Mr. Gunnery was dead-would the young man have dreamt of seeking guidance. Whatever Lady Whitelaw's reply, he had made up his mind to go to London. Should his subsi

r subtle reasons, he was already prejudiced) had taken offence; either she would not reply at all, or presently there would come a few lines of polite displeasure, intimating her disinclination to aid his project. He silently raged against 't

regretted her tardiness in replying to him (caused by her absence from home), and hoped he would be able to call upon her, at te

into the front room on the ground floor, where Lady Whitelaw, alone, sat reading a newspaper. Her features were of a very common order, and nothing distinguished her from middle-aged women of average refinement; she had chubby hands, rather broad shoulders, and no visible waist. The scruti

hough it had at one time been needful for her to premeditate polished phrases.) 'I am very sorry you should have t

hat was upon him. In his endeavour not to display a purring smi

circumstances you refer to in your letter. But do let me ask you: Is your decision final

sure of it,'

aps have elicited from him a free confession. Gratitude and admiration would have made him capable of such frankness. But in the face of this newspaper-reading woman (yes, he had unaccountably felt it jar upon him that a lady should be reading a newspaper), under her matr

to hear it,' fell from her tight

oor, every nerve in his body tense with that distressing passion peculiar to the shyly arrogant

ute, almost, and Peak gave

I don't know what prospects you may have in London, but, if you had remained a

as to thank her for the past, and declare that henceforth he would dispense with aid; only the choking in his throat obstructed some such utterance. He resented profoundly her supposition (natural enough) that his chief aim was to establish himself in a self-supporting career. What? Am I to be grateful for a mere chance of

d to say. 'I wish to give this next year exclusively to scientif

heart he detested. He knew himself for an undesigning hypocrite, and felt that he might as well have been a rascal complete. Gratitude! No man capable of it in fuller measure than he; but no

ing which Lady Whitelaw commented on her pr

at length, with cold politeness, 'whe

ne who studied at t

are the best judge of your private circumstances. I must ask you to

to rise with something like a conventional smile, and thus p

le to him. That would have been to act with dignity; that would have been the very best form of gratitude for the kindness he had received. But no, his accursed lack of self-possession had ruined all. 'The woman was now offended in good earnest; he saw it in her face at parting. The fault was admittedly o

nsion. He begged Lady Whitelaw would forgive this thoughtless impropriety; she had made him understand the full extent of his error. Of course he could not accept anything more from her. As for the past, it would be idle for him to attempt an ex

erve concealed. The satisfaction of declining further assistance was enormous. He read his letter several times aloud. This was the great style; he could imagine this incident

l the morning; now she was just returned, and Godwin saw trouble on her

gue falter. How could he convey to another the intangible sense of wounded dignity which had impell

ear in a d

to take it-in

inks of me too mu

m. Mrs. Peak sat still, with

ill refuse, Godwin?' f

losed on t

d find some occupation as soon as possible. You c

es

h Mr. Dutch had been followed by several days' gloom. The truth was that Mrs Peak could not live strictly within the income at her disposal, and on being from time to time reminded of this, she was oppressed by passing worry. If Godwin and Oliver 'got on well,' things would come all right in the end, but in the meantime she co

m Lady Whitelaw. But neither

tate his endeavour; and, seeing that his mother's peace depended upon his being speedily self-supporting, was it not a form of selfishness to reject help from one who could well afford it? From a distance, he regarded Lady Whitelaw with more charity; a longer talk with her might hav

lesome misgiving; perchance he had gone too far, a

Whitelaw wrote briefly and formally. Having considered Godwin's request, she had no reason for doubting that he would make a good use of the proposed year at the School of Mines,

t to humility. At considerable length he dwelt upon the change of tastes of which he had been conscious lately, and did not fail to make obvious the superiority of his ambition to all thought of material advancement. He offered his thanks, and promised to give an account of himself (as in duty bound) at the close

l help. In the meantime (for it would be waste of money to go up till near the end of the holiday season) he made schemes of study and completed his information concerning the School of Mines. So far from lamenting the interruption of his promising career at Whitelaw, he persuaded himself that Uncle Andrew had in truth done him a very good turn: now at length he was fixed in the right course. The only thing he regretted was losing sight of his two or three student-friends, especially Earwaker and Buckland Warricombe. They,

t remember the student who seemed to have

; the family reaped benefit from his improved temper. Even to Mr. Cusse he behaved with modified contempt. Oliver was judicious enough to suppress his ni

cause, Miss Cadman's indignation knew no bounds. What! That low fellow had been allowed to interfere with the progress of Godwin Peak's education, and not a protest uttered? He should have been forbidden to establish himself in

hitelaw's money for the purchase of scientific books, and set to work upon them with freshened zeal. The early morning and lat

hour when the family would probably be taking their ease in the garden. Three of the ladies were, in f

ed Mr. Moxey, as he shook hands. '

ll who took any interest in the young man had long been privately acquainted with the facts of his position. Now that discussion was rife, it would have been prudent in the Misses Lumb to divulge as much of the truth at they knew, but (in accordance with the law of natural perversity)

e listened with his usual friendly air to Godwin's account of t

London?' he inquire

o kind as to ask me to call on him

condemned Christian for undue advances to one below his own station. The result of this surmise was of course a sudden co

f good wishes, and hoped he might hear that the removal to London had proved 'advantageous'. This word sufficed to conver

, just coming home from walk or visit. Another grab at his hat, a

u are going to L

am, Miss

s face, and see

just been to say g

es

d away, again turne

ds there, I hop

have

y glad to help you in any way.' Her voice sank, and at the

reply. 'But I must learn to

rformed a salute, a

ormation upon which he by chance alighted in a newspaper. The result of the Honours examination for the First B.A. at London had just been made

hence, which name would have wider recognition-Bruno Chi

s early a train as possible, that the dolours of leave-taking might be abridged. At a

is last words to his mother. 'I may

ed the natural feeling which brought moisture to his eyes. He hardened himself against the ties of blood, and kept repeating to himself a phrase in which of late he had summed h