Oddly enough, his surname was an uncommon and aristocratic
one. His wife, on the other hand, although a very good woman
as we found, had a distinctly plebeian countenance. One day
she informed us that she came of a different and better class
than her husband's. She was the daughter of a small
tradesman, and had begun life as a lady's-maid: her husband
was nothing but a labourer; his people had been labourers for
generations, consequently her marriage to him had involved a
considerable descent in the social scale. Hearing this, it
was hard to repress a smile.
The contrast between this man and the ordinary villager of his
class was as great in manners and conversation as in features
and expression. His combined dignity and gentleness, and
apparent unconsciousness of any caste difference between man
and man, were astonishing in one who had been a simple toiler
all his life.
There were some grown-up children, others growing up, with
others that were still quite small. The boys, I noticed,
favoured their mother, and had commonplace faces; the girls
took after their father, and though their features were not so
perfect they were exceptionally good-looking. The eldest son
--the disjointed, fly-away-looking young man who had conquered
all his enemies--had a wife and child. The eldest daughter
was also married, and had one child. Altogether the three
families numbered about sixteen persons, each family having
its separate set of rooms, but all dining at one table.
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