Morley greeted Gerard and his daughter with great warmth, and
then looked at Egremont. "Our companion in the ruins of
Marney Abbey," said Gerard; "you and our friend Franklin here
should become acquainted, Stephen, for you both follow the
same craft. He is a journalist like yourself, and is our
neighbour for a time, and yours."
"What journal are you on, may I ask?" enquired Morley.
Egremont reddened, was confused, and then replied, "I have no
claim to the distinguished title of a journalist. I am but a
reporter; and have some special duties here."
"Hem!" said Morley, and then taking Gerard by the arm, he
walked away with him, leaving Egremont and Sybil to follow
them.
"Well I have found him, Walter."
"What, Hatton?"
"No, no; the brother."
"And what knows he?"
"Little enough; yet something. Our man lives and prospers; these are facts, but where he is, or what he is—not a clue."
"And this brother cannot help us?"
"On the contrary, he sought information from me; he is a
savage, beneath even our worst ideas of popular degradation. All that is ascertained is that our man exists and is well to do in the world. There comes an annual and anonymous contribution, and not a light one, to his brother. I examined the post-marks of the letters, but they all varied, and were evidently arranged to mislead. I fear you will deem I have not done much; yet it was wearisome enough I can tell you."
"I doubt it not; and I am sure Stephen, you have done all that
man could. I was fancying that I should hear from you to-day; for what think you has happened? My Lord himself, his family and train, have all been in state to visit the works, and I had to show them. Queer that, wasn't it? He offered me money when it was over. How much I know not, I would not look at it. Though to be sure, they were perhaps my own rents, eh? But I pointed to the sick box and his own dainty hand deposited the sum there."
"'Tis very strange. And you were with him face to face?"
"Face to face. Had you brought me news of the papers, I
should have thought that providence had rather a hand in it—
but now, we are still at sea."
"Still at sea," said Morley musingly, "but he lives and
prospers. He will turn up yet, Walter."
"Amen! Since you have taken up this thing, Stephen, it is
strange how my mind has hankered after the old business, and
yet it ruined my father, and mayhap may do as bad for his
son."
"We will not think that," said Morley. "At present we will
think of other things. You may guess I am a bit wearied; I
think I'll say good night; you have strangers with you."
"Nay, nay man; nay. This Franklin is a likely lad enough; I
think you will take to him. Prithee come in. Sybil will not
take it kindly if you go, after so long an absence; and I am
sure I shall not."
So they entered together.
The evening passed in various conversation, though it led
frequently to the staple subject of talk beneath the roof of
Gerard—the Condition of the People. What Morley had seen in
his recent excursion afforded materials for many comments.
"The domestic feeling is fast vanishing among the working
classes of this country," said Gerard; "nor is it wonderful—
the Home no longer exists."
"But there are means of reviving it," said Egremont; "we have
witnessed them to-day. Give men homes, and they will have
soft and homely notions, If all men acted like Mr Trafford, the condition of the people would be changed."
"But all men will not act like Mr Trafford," said Morley. "It
requires a sacrifice of self which cannot be expected, which
is unnatural. It is not individual influence that can
renovate society: it is some new principle that must
reconstruct it. You lament the expiring idea of Home. It
would not be expiring, if
it were worth retaining. The domestic principle has fulfilled
its purpose. The irresistible law of progress demands that
another should be developed. It will come; you may advance or
retard, but you cannot prevent it. It will work out like the
development of organic nature. In the present state of
civilization and with the scientific means of happiness at our
command, the notion of home should be obsolete. Home is a
barbarous idea; the method of a rude age; home is isolation; therefore anti-social. What we want is Community."