“Such as–”
“Well, the abolition of both black and white slavery; the breaking up of the gigantic monopoly of the East India Company, and the throwing open of our ports to the merchants of the world; the inauguration of a system of national education; the reform of our cruel criminal code; the abolition of the press gang, and of chimney sweeping by little children, and such brutalities; the postal reform; and the spread of such good, cheap literature as the Penny Magazine and Chambers’s Magazine. My dear Kate, it would require a book to tell all that the Reform Bill has done for England. Think of the misery of that last two years’ struggle, and look at our happy country to-day.”
“Prosperous, but not happy, Piers. How can we be happy when, all over the land, mothers are weeping because their children are not. If this awful Sepoy rebellion was only over; then!”
“Yes,” answered Piers; “if it was only over! Surely there never was a war so full of strange, unnatural cruelties. I wonder where Cecil and Annabel are.”
“Wherever they are, I am sure both of them will be in the way of honour and duty.”
There was a pause, and then Piers asked, “To whom are you writing, dear Kate?”
“To Dick and John. They do not want to return to their studies this winter; they wish to travel in Italy.”
“Nonsense! They must go through college before they travel. Tell them so.”
The Duke had entered as Piers was speaking, and he listened to his remark. Then, even as he stooped to kiss Kate, he contradicted it. “I don’t think so, Piers,” he said decisively. “Let the boys go. Give them their own way a little. I do not like to see such spirited youths snubbed for a trifle.”
“But this is not a trifle, Father.”