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used　to　say　to　Pemberton　with　the　humour　that　made　his　queer

delicacies　manly　…　to　carry　themselves　with　an　air。　　But　their　one

idea　was　to　get　in　with　people　who　didn't　want　them　and　to　take

snubs　as　it　they　were　honourable　scars。　　Why　people　didn't　want

them　more　he　didn't　know　…　that　was　people's　own　affair；　after　all

they　weren't　superficially　repulsive；　they　were　a　hundred　times

cleverer　than　most　of　the　dreary　grandees；　the　〃poor　swells〃　they

rushed　about　Europe　to　catch　up　with。　　〃After　all　they　ARE　amusing

…　they　are！〃　he　used　to　pronounce　with　the　wisdom　of　the　ages。　　To

which　Pemberton　always　replied：　　〃Amusing　…　the　great　Moreen

troupe？　　Why　they're　altogether　delightful；　and　if　it　weren't　for

the　hitch　that　you　and　I　（feeble　performers！）　make　in　the　ensemble

they'd　carry　everything　before　them。〃



What　the　boy　couldn't　get　over　was　the　fact　that　this　particular

blight　seemed；　in　a　tradition　of　self…respect；　so　undeserved　and　so

arbitrary。　　No　doubt　people　had　a　right　to　take　the　line　they

liked；　but　why　should　his　people　have　liked　the　line　of　pushing　and

toadying　and　lying　and　cheating？　　What　had　their　forefathers　…　all

decent　folk；　so　far　as　he　knew　…　done　to　them；　or　what　had　he　done

to　them？　　Who　had　poisoned　their　blood　with　the　fifth…rate　social

ideal；　the　fixed　idea　of　making　smart　acquaintances　and　getting

into　the　monde　chic；　especially　when　it　was　foredoomed　to　failure

and　exposure？　　They　showed　so　what　they　were　after；　that　was　what

made　the　people　they　wanted　not　want　THEM。　　And　never　a　wince　for

dignity；　never　a　throb　of　shame　at　looking　each　other　in　the　face；

never　any　independence　or　resentment　or　disgust。　　If　his　father　or

his　brother　would　only　knock　some　one　down　once　or　twice　a　year！

Clever　as　they　were　they　never　guessed　the　impression　they　made。

They　were　good…natured；　yes　…　as　good…natured　as　Jews　at　the　doors

of　clothing…shops！　　But　was　that　the　model　one　wanted　one's　family

to　follow？　　Morgan　had　dim　memories　of　an　old　grandfather；　the

maternal；　in　New　York；　whom　he　had　been　taken　across　the　ocean　at

the　age　of　five　to　see：　　a　gentleman　with　a　high　neck…cloth　and　a

good　deal　of　pronunciation；　who　wore　a　dress…coat　in　the　morning；

which　made　one　wonder　what　he　wore　in　the　evening；　and　had；　or　was

supposed　to　have　〃property〃　and　something　to　do　with　the　Bible

Society。　　It　couldn't　have　been　but　that　he　was　a　good　type。

Pemberton　himself　remembered　Mrs。　Clancy；　a　widowed　sister　of　Mr。

Moreen's；　who　was　as　irritating　as　a　moral　tale　and　had　paid　a

fortnight's　visit　to　the　family　at　Nice　shortly　after　he　came　to

live　with　them。　　She　was　〃pure　and　refined；〃　as　Amy　said　over　the

banjo；　and　had　the　air　of　not　knowing　what　they　meant　when　they

talked；　and　of　keeping　something　rather　important　back。　　Pemberton

judged　that　what　she　kept　back　was　an　approval　of　many　of　their

ways；　therefore　it　was　to　be　supposed　that　she　too　was　of　a　good

type；　and　that　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Moreen　and　Ulick　and　Paula　and　Amy

might　easily　have　been　of　a　better　one　if　they　would。



But　that　they　wouldn't　was　more　and　more　perceptible　from　day　to

day。　　They　continued　to　〃chivey；〃　as　Morgan　called　it；　and　in　due

time　became　aware　of　a　variety　of　reasons　for　proceeding　to　Venice。

They　mentioned　a　great　many　of　them　…　they　were　always　strikingly

frank　and　had　the　brightest　friendly　chatter；　at　the　late　foreign

breakfast　in　especial；　before　the　ladies　had　made　up　their　faces；

when　they　leaned　their　arms　on　the　table；　had　something　to　follow

the　demitasse；　and；　in　the　heat　of　familiar　discussion　as　to　what

they　〃really　ought〃　to　do；　fell　inevitably　into　the　languages　in

which　they　could　tutoyer。　　Even　Pemberton　liked　them　then；　he　could

endure　even　Ulick　when　he　heard　him　give　his　little　flat　voice　for

the　〃sweet　sea…city。〃　　That　was　what　made　him　have　a　sneaking

kindness　for　them　…　that　they　were　so　out　of　the　workaday　world　and

kept　him　so　out　of　it。　　The　summer　had　waned　when；　with　cries　of

ecstasy；　they　all　passed　out　on　the　balcony　that　overhung　the　Grand

Canal。　　The　sunsets　then　were　splendid　and　the　Dorringtons　had

arrived。　　The　Dorringtons　were　the　only　reason　they　hadn't　talked

of　at　breakfast；　but　the　reasons　they　didn't　talk　of　at　breakfast

always　came　out　in　the　end。　　The　Dorringtons　on　the　other　hand　came

out　very　little；　or　else　when　they　did　they　stayed　…　as　was　natural

…　for　hours；　during　which　periods　Mrs。　Moreen　and　the　girls

sometimes　called　at　their　hotel　（to　see　if　they　had　returned）　as

many　as　three　times　running。　　The　gondola　was　for　the　ladies；　as　in

Venice　too　there　were　〃days；〃　which　Mrs。　Moreen　knew　in　their　order

an　hour　after　she　arrived。　　She　immediately　took　one　herself；　to

which　the　Dorringtons　never　came；　though　on　a　certain　occasion　when

Pemberton　and　his　pupil　were　together　at　St。　Mark's　…　where；　taking

the　best　walks　they　had　ever　had　and　haunting　a　hundred　churches；

they　spent　a　great　deal　of　time　…　they　saw　the　old　lord　turn　up

with　Mr。　Moreen　and　Ulick；　who　showed　him　the　dim　basilica　as　if　it

belonged　to　them。　　Pemberton　noted　how　much　less；　among　its

curiosities；　Lord　Dorrington　carried　himself　as　a　man　of　the　world；

wondering　too　whether；　for　such　services；　his　companions　took　a　fee

from　him。　　The　autumn　at　any　rate　waned；　the　Dorringtons　departed；

and　Lord　Verschoyle；　the　eldest　son；　had　proposed　neither　for　Amy

nor　for　Paula。



One　sad　November　day；　while　the　wind　roared　round　the　old　palace

and　the　rain　lashed　the　lagoon；　Pemberton；　for　exercise　and　even

somewhat　for　warmth　…　the　Moreens　were　horribly　frugal　about　fires；

it　was　a　cause　of　suffering　to　their　inmate　…　walked　up　and　down

the　big　bare　sala　with　his　pupil。　　The　scagliola　floor　was　cold；

the　high　battered　casements　shook　in　the　storm；　and　the　stately

decay　of　the　place　was　unrelieved　by　a　particle　of　furniture。

Pemberton's　spirits　were　low；　and　it　came　over　him　that　the　fortune

of　the　Moreens　was　now　even　lower。　　A　blast　of　desolation；　a

portent　of　disgrace　and　disaster；　seemed　to　draw　through　the

comfortless　hall。　　Mr。　Moreen　and　Ulick　were　in　the　Piazza；　looking

out　for　something；　strolling　drearily；　in　mackintoshes；　under　the

arcades；　but　still；　in　spite　of　mackintoshes；　unmistakeable　men　of

the　world。　　Paula　and　Amy　were　in　bed　…　it　might　have　been　thought

they　were　staying　there　to　keep　warm。　　Pemberton　looked　askance　at

the　boy　at　his　side；　to　see　to　what　extent　he　was　conscious　of

these　dark　omens。　　But　Morgan；　luckily　for　him；　was　now　mainly

conscious　of　growing　taller　and　stronger　and　indeed　of　being　in　his

fifteenth　year。　　This　fact　was　intensely　interesting　to　him　and　the

basis　of　a　private　theory　…　which；　however；　he　had　imparted　to　his

tutor　…　that　in　a　little　while　he　should　stand　on　his　own　feet。　　He

considered　that　the　situation　would　change　…　that　in　short　he

should　be　〃finished；〃　grown　up；　producible　in　the　world　of　affairs

and　ready　to　prove　himself　of　sterling　ability。　　Sharply　as　he　was

capable　at　times　of　analysing；　as　he　called　it；　his　life；　there

were　happy　hours　when　he　remained；　as　he　also　called　it　…　and　as

the　name；　really；　of　their　right　ideal　…　〃jolly〃　superficial；　the

proof　of　which　was　his　fundamental　assumption　that　he　should

presently　go　to　Oxford；　to　Pemberton's　college；　and；　aided　and

abetted　by　Pemberton；　do　the　most　wonderful　things。　　It　depressed

the　young　man　to　see　how　little　in　such　a　project　he　took　account

of　ways　and　means：　　in　other　connexions　he　mostly　kept　to　the

measure。　　Pemberton　tried　to　imagine　the　Moreens　at　Oxford　and

fortunately　failed；　yet　unless　they　were　to　adopt　it　as　a　residence

there　would　be　no　modus　vivendi　for　Morgan。　　How　could　he　live

without　an　allowance；　and　where　was　the　allowance　to　come　from？

He；　Pemberton；　might　live　on　Morgan；　but　how　could　Morgan　live　on

HIM？　　What　was　to　become　of　him　anyhow？　　Somehow　the　fact　that　he

was　a　big　boy　now；　with　better　prospects　of　health；　made　the

question　of　his　future　more　difficult。　　So　long　as　he　was　markedly

frail　the　great　consideration　he　inspired　seemed　enough　of　an

answer　to　it。　　But　at　the　bottom　of　Pemberton's　heart　was　the

recognition　of　his　probably　being　strong　enough　to　live　and　not　yet

strong　enough　to　struggle　or　to　thrive。　　Morgan　himself　at　any　rate

was　in　the　first　flush　of　the　rosiest　consciousness　of　adolescence；

so　that　the　beating　of　the　tempest　seemed　to　him　after　all　but　the

voice　of　life　and　the　challenge　of　fate。　　He　had　on　his　shabby

little　overcoat；　with　the　collar　up；　but　was　enjoying　his　walk。



It　was　interrupted　at　last　by　the　appearance　of　his　mother　at　the

end　of　the　sala。　　She　beckoned　him　to　come　to　her；　and　while

Pemberton　saw　him；　complaisant；　pass　down　the　long　vista　and　over

the　damp　false　marble；　he　wondered　what　was　in　the　air。　　Mrs。

Moreen　said　a　word　to　the　boy　and　made　him　go　into　the　room　she　had

quitted。　　Then；　having　closed　the　door　after　him；　she　directed　her

steps　swiftly