This question, ‘What is he to be?’ in a worldly sense, was being discussed, and I am sure that it was for the first time, at all events in my presence.  Mr. Brightwen, I fancy, had been worked upon by my stepmother, whose affection for me was always on the increase, to suggest, or faintly to stir the air in the neighbourhood of suggesting, a query about my future.  He was childless and so was she, and I think a kind impulse led them to ‘feel the way’, as it is called.  I believe he said that the banking business, wisely and honourably conducted, sometimes led, as we know that it is apt to lead, to affluence.  To my horror, my Father, with rising emphasis, replied that ’if there were offered to his beloved child what is called “an opening” that would lead to an income of L10,000 a year, and that would divert his thoughts and interest from the Lord’s work he would reject it on his child’s behalf.’  Mr. Brightwen, a precise and polished gentleman who evidently never made an exaggerated statement in his life, was, I think, faintly scandalized; he soon left us, and I do not recollect his paying us a second visit.

For my silent part, I felt very much like Gehazi, and I would fain have followed after the banker if I had dared to do so, into the night.  I would have excused to him the ardour of my Elisha, and I would have reminded him of the sons of the prophets—­’Give me, I pray thee,’ I would have said, ’a talent of silver and two changes of garments.’  It seemed to me very hard that my Father should dispose of my possibilities of wealth in so summary a fashion, but the fact that I did resent it, and regretted what I supposed to be my ‘chance’, shows how far apart we had already swung.  My Father, I am convinced, thought that he gave words to my inward instincts when he repudiated the very mild and inconclusive benevolence of his brother-in-law.  But he certainly did not do so.  I was conscious of a sharp and instinctive disappointment at having had, as I fancied, wealth so near my grasp, and at seeing it all cast violently into the sea of my Father’s scruples.

Not one of my village friends attended the boarding-school to which I was now attached, and I arrived there without an acquaintance.  I should soon, however, have found a corner of my own if my Father had not unluckily stipulated that I was not to sleep in the dormitory with the boys of my own age, but in the room occupied by the two elder sons of a prominent Plymouth Brother whom he knew.  From a social point of view this was an unfortunate arrangement, since these youths were some years older and many years riper than I; the eldest, in fact, was soon to leave; they had enjoyed their independence, and they now greatly resented being saddled with the presence of an unknown urchin.  The supposition had been that they would protect and foster my religious practices; would encourage me, indeed, as my Father put it, to approach the Throne of Grace with them at morning and evening prayer.