And there followed some appalling instances of the effects of the multiplicity of gin-palaces, things that it well-nigh broke Robert’s heart to witness, absorbed as he was in the novelty of his work, fresh in feeling, and never able to divest himself of a sense of being a sharer in the guilt and ruin.
Sir Bevil listened at first with interest, then tried to lead away from the subject; but it was Robert’s single idea, and he kept them to it till their departure, when Phœbe’s first
words were, as they drove from the door, ‘Oh, thank you, you do not know how much happier you have made me.’
Her companion smiled, saying, ‘I need not ask which is the favourite brother.’
‘Mervyn is very kind to me,’ quickly answered Phœbe.
‘But Robert is the oracle! eh?’ he said, kindly and merrily.
‘Robert has been everything to us younger ones,’ she answered. ‘I am still more glad that you like him.’
His grave face not responding as she expected, she feared that he had been bored, that he thought Robert righteous over much, or disapproved his opinions; but his answer was worth having when it came. ‘I know nothing about his views; I never looked into the subject; but when I see a young man giving up a lucrative prospect for conscience sake, and devoting himself to work in that sink of iniquity, I see there must be something in him. I can’t judge if he goes about it in a wrong-headed way, but I should be proud of such a fellow instead of discarding him.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ cried Phœbe, with ecstasy that made him laugh, and quite differently from the made-up laughter she had been used to hear from him.
‘What are you thanking me for?’ he said. ‘I do not imagine that I shall be able to serve him. I’ll talk to your father about him, but he must be the best judge of the discipline of his own family.’