“My sweet child,” said the Knight, fondly, “it is a very dangerous practice to blend up affection with principle; depend upon it, the former will always coerce the latter, and bend it to its will; and as for those good gifts you speak of, had I really as many of them as your fond heart would endow me with, believe me there is no station so humble as not to admit of their exercise. There never yet was a walk in life without its sphere of duties; now I intend that not only are we to be happy here, but that we should contribute to the well-being of those about us.”
There was a pause after the Knight had done speaking, during which he busied himself in turning over some letters, the seals of which were still unbroken; he knew the handwriting on most of them, and yet hesitated about inflicting on himself the pain of reading allusions to that condition he had once occupied. “Yes,” muttered he to himself, “we are always flattering ourselves of how essential we are to our friends, our party, and so forth; and yet, when any events occur which despoil us of our brief importance, we see the whole business of the world go on as currently as ever. What a foretaste this gives one of death! So it is, the stream of life flows on, whether the bubble on its surface float or burst.”
“That's Lord Netherby's hand, is it not?” said Lady Eleanor, as she lifted a letter which had fallen to the ground.
“Yes,” said Darcy, carelessly; “written probably soon after his return to England. I have no doubt it contains a most courtly acknowledgment of our poor hospitality, and an assurance of undying regard.”
“If it be of that tenor, I have no curiosity to read it,” said Lady Eleanor, handing the letter to the Knight.
“Helen would like to study so great a master of epistolary flatteries,” said the Knight, smiling; “and provided she will keep the whole for her private reading, I am willing to indulge her.”
“I accept the favor with thanks,” said Helen, receiving the letter; “you know I plead guilty to liking our noble relative. I 'm not skilled enough to distinguish between an article trebly gilded and one of pure gold, and his Lordship, to my eyes, looked as like the true metal as possible: he said so many pretty things to Mamma, and so many fine things of you and Lionel—”
“And paid so many compliments to the fair Helen herself,” interposed the Knight.
“With so much of good tact—”
“And good taste, Helen,” added Lady Eleanor, smiling; “why not say that?”