'Yes. He was something when he was alive; but what is he to us now? And why should we care,'—Betty hastily went on to generalities, seeing the astonishment in Mrs. Dallas's face,—'why should we be more interested in the monuments and deaths of the great, than in those of lesser people? In death and bereavement all come down to a common humanity.'
'Not a common humanity!' said Mrs. Dallas, rather staring at Betty.
'All are alike on the other side, mother,' observed Pitt. 'The king's daughter and the little village girl stand on the same footing, when once they have left this state of things. There is only one nobility that can make any difference then.'
'"One nobility!"' repeated Mrs. Dallas, bewildered.
'You remember the words,—"Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my mother, and my sister, and brother." The village girl will often turn out to be the daughter of the King then.'
'But you do not think, do you,' said Betty, 'that all that one has gained in this life will be lost, or go for nothing? Education—knowledge—refinement,—all that makes one man or woman really greater and nobler and richer than another,—will that be all as though it had not been?—no advantage?'
'What we know of the human mind forbids us to think so. Also, the analogy of God's dealings forbids it. The child and the fully developed philosopher do not enter the other world on an intellectual level; we cannot suppose it. But, all the gain on the one side will go to heighten his glory or to deepen his shame, according to the fact of his having been a servant of God or no.'
'I don't know where you are getting to!' said Mrs. Dallas a little vexedly.
'If we are to proceed at this rate,' suggested her husband, 'we may as well get leave to spend all the working days of a month in the Abbey. It will take us all that.'
'After all,' said Betty as they moved, 'you did not explain why we should be so much more interested in this tomb of Edward the Third's children than in that of any farmer's family?'