anything useful from one year's end to the other, to see the table spread ever so many times a day with ten times as much food as can be eaten, every want ministered to by a pack of lazy servants, themselves as pampered as their masters — what can be expected from a thoroughly immoral life of this sort but indifference to the needs of others?" Yorke, however, forgot that the senses of others might be dulled by familiarity with the social aspect of England, which struck him so forcibly on seeing it for the first time.
"Are there no poor in India?" asked Lucy, with some hesitation, disconcerted at the sudden change in his manner.
"Plenty," he replied, "including the poor British soldier. We have enough to eat and drink," he added, "and can manage to find ourselves in such light clothing as is needed in that climate; but it is a rough sort of life compared with what some of the good people at home are accustomed to, with their comforts and coddling and luxury."
"I should think a rough life must be very pleasant," said Lucy, after a pause.
"How can you tell what you think, when you have never tried it, accustomed as you are to have every want supplied, and everything done for you? You would always rather ring the bell for the servant to poke the fire, than do it yourself, I'll be bound. And I don't suppose you can remember having ever in your lifetime done your own hair."
"Oh yes, I can," said Lucy, laughing and blushing; "I can do my own hair well enough when I like; but what is the good, if your maid is there to do it for you? But you don't understand what I mean. It is so tiresome having everything done for one, and being of no use to others. Even the children never want to be looked after by us elder ones. You gentlemen go about, and hunt and shoot and travel, just when you please, and can afford to make fun of us girls who stay at home and do nothing."
"No, no, I am not making fun at all. There is nothing for us men to assume superiority about, because we amuse ourselves in our way, while you stay at home and amuse yourselves in yours."
"Amuse ourselves! what amusements have we? You little know how dull we always find it. I don't mean always; of course it is different when you — when we have visitors staying in the house. But you don't know how dull it is when we are alone. One gets up in the morning, really not knowing how the day is to be got through. One can't be always working or reading, you know."
"Then you do read sometimes?"
"You are very sarcastic; because we don't take up books when we have company, we may read a little at other times, I suppose? I don't pretend to be very fond of books, and I hate dry ones, and I daresay you have found out how ignorant I am; but one gets so tired of being of no use to anybody. I often think I should like to be a governess or a needlewoman, or something of that sort, and earn my living."
"So luxury has its pains as well as its pleasures," said Yorke, delighted at this confession, yet still keeping Lucy on the defensive. "Charity begins at home; why not teach your little sisters? "
"Papa would not let me, even if I knew enough to do so. He means to have a French governess for them, and a German one too, as soon as Minnie is eight. He talks of adding schoolrooms to the house after Christmas. We never can do anything for the children except play with them. When they were ill last year, papa got down a couple of nurses from town, one for the day and one for the night, and we were not allowed to go near them for fear of infection, although I believe there was no danger really."
"I am afraid your papa would hardly agree to the governess plan for yourself, laudable though it be. How would you like a life of adventure and travel? "
"Ah, travelling would be delightful. We have often wanted papa to take us for a foreign tour, but I don't think he would like it, and then Mrs. Peevor is so delicate."
"But it is not necessary to travel with one's papa always. You might join a party of friends, for example." Then — after a pause — "Is Mr. Hanckes much of a traveller?"
"How can you be so absurd?" replied Lucy, laughing and blushing, as she turned her head away from her companion's searching gaze. "No, Mr. Hanckes would not leave London and his beloved counting-house for the world. But I should think a life of foreign adventure would be much pleasanter than living in England. England is so stupid and dull — don't you think so?"
"I can't say that I have found it so — especially of late; but still, life in India may have its charms too — don't you think so?"
"Yes, indeed," said Lucy, eagerly, and then looking up and meeting his eyes fixed
